


Even Fire Can Be Extinguished

by KangHoo



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Badass Katara (Avatar), Badass Mai (Avatar), Badass Sokka (Avatar), Badass Toph Beifong, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Suki (Avatar), Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Happy Azula (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Jet (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), M/M, Minor Sokka/Suki, Modern Era, Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Azula (Avatar), Protective Sokka (Avatar), Racism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sane Azula (Avatar), Slow Burn, Stubborn Katara (Avatar), Top Sokka (Avatar), Toph Beifong and Zuko are Siblings, Toph Being Awesome, Ursa (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Zhao (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Zuko (Avatar) Needs Therapy, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 127,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KangHoo/pseuds/KangHoo
Summary: Zuko was seven when he sat in front of his sister's bedroom door, determined to protect her from the strange man drinking beer with his father.He was eight when he saw his mother lying in a pool of her own blood.He was ten when the strange man asked him what he would do to protect his sister.He was eleven when his father burned half of his face for spilling untold secrets.He was twelve when CPS took him and his sister away, only to give them over to be under Iroh's care.He was thirteen when he met people he wanted to be friends with.He was eighteen when he finally realized he was part of a crazy, lovable family.***OR -- Zuko's life goes from a living hell to a tolerable heaven.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Azula/Suki (Avatar), Iroh & The Gaang (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Zhao/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 850
Kudos: 1398





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the warnings!! This story will be VERY heart-wrenching!
> 
> Also, please be aware that English is not my first language. If I make any mistakes, please let me know!! Thank you! Enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula, merely five-years-old, already knew she was her father's favorite. That didn't stop her from running to her mother and brother when things got bad for the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: child abuse, domestic abuse

**CW: descriptions of abuse**

Azula peeked out from under her bed, waiting to hear any noise that may disrupt the never-ending silence. As she began to realize that the silence wouldn't end, she slowly crawled out from under her bed, holding her breath in the process. Once she got up, she sprinted to her opened bedroom door, being careful to mask her footsteps as quietly as a five-year-old could. 

Once in the hallway, she raced to her mother's bedroom. Seeing that the door was already wide open, she ran into the room and quietly closed the door. 

Safe. She was safe now. 

One look at the bedroom told her all that she needed to know. There was broken glass, blood on the walls and the floor, and her mother coming out of a corner with a battered Zuko in her arms. The moon peaked through the window, occupying the room as the only source of light. Her young mind barely took in the sight before she ran towards her mother, tears threatening to spill. Ursa looked down at her tearful daughter, scared that she would make a sound.

Azula--little Azula--almost wanted to tell her mother not to worry. That she knew not to make a sound. 

_Because papa will come and hurt everyone again. Because Zuko doesn't look too well. Because mama doesn't look pretty with the blood dripping down her face._

Of course, little Azula never said any of those things. She knew not to make a sound.

Azula watched as Ursa lightly laid Zuko down on a thin mattress and tucked him in, flinching when he made a small whimper. 

"I-I'm sorry, baby," her mother whispered to Zuko. Her voice was teary and on the verge of cracking, sounding guilty as though she herself hurt her own son. 

Azula peered over the mattress and saw her brother's state. Taking in the heavily-bruised form of her brother, she knew that Zuko had once again stepped in front of the beating. She gently touched her mother's hand, looking at her expectantly. Ursa all but sighed, smiling gently at her unharmed daughter, and getting onto the mattress with her son.

Azula looked down at their forms as they laid on the thin mattress. Her mother and brother never got a bed.

_"Weaklings don't deserve a bed_ _,"_ her father had once told her. _"I'm doing them a favor. They'll get stronger this way. Then, they'll get a bed."_

_"Then why do I get a bed, papa?"_ she once asked him. 

_"Because you are my daughter, and you are strong."_ He laughed bitterly while adoringly ruffling her hair. _"You were born lucky, Azula. Your brother, on the other hand, was lucky to be born. Just like your mother."_

Azula roughly shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her memories. Flashbacks. She knew she was her father's favorite. She was grateful that he never laid a hand on her. 

It was times like this where she just wished her father loved all of his family members as much as he loved her.

A weak voice broke her out of her mini trance. "A... Azu... la..."

Zuko.

The five-year-old looked at her brother with all the attention she could ever give. He was smiling at her, but just barely. The tiny smile that played on his lips seemed painful. The corners of his mouth were both bloody and bruised. Azula felt like crying. 

Why was her brother hurt? He was always nice. Nice people shouldn't get hurt.

She saw Zuko lightly pat the space on the mattress by his side. His hand could barely move with the exception of a few tiny movements, but she understood what he was asking of her. Without hesitation, Azula climbed onto the mattress and laid next to her brother, being careful not to hurt him or get too close.

"Zuzu..." she quietly spoke. She wanted her brother's attention.

He slightly turned his head to face her, ready to hear her.

She repeated the same question she always asked him. "Are you hurting a lot?"

Zuko slightly shook his head. Azula knew that he was lying. He always lied to make her feel better. 

Azula let the lie slide. Instead, she looked up at him worriedly and asked, "Is papa gonna come back tonight?"

Zuko remained still, though his face became a little conflicted. Ursa noticed his lack of movement and jumped in to answer, "Your father is sleeping right now, baby. He'll be at work in a few hours."

Azula took the answer she was given with a nod. She then propped herself up with her elbow and looked at her mother and brother expectantly. 

"Zuzu," she quietly asked her brother, "If you are feeling better when you wake up, do you want to play with candles with me?"

When Zuko gave a small smile, confirming that he would do so, Azula turned to her mother."Mama, when papa is at work, do you want to play with me and Zuzu?" 

"I'd love to, baby," Ursa softly smiled. 

Little Azula's heart pumped in pure delight. She smiled so wide that it hurt her jaw, and even her mother and brother looked very happy at her excitement. She bounced lightly on the mattress, careful not to disturb Zuko's injuries. 

"Azula, baby," her mother gently called out, "Why don't you get some sleep now? I'm sure the next day will come faster when you fall asleep."

"Okay," the five-year-old reasoned, "But may I please stay here for the night? Please?" She mustered the babiest puppy-eyes and pout for persuasion (not that she needed to in the first place). 

Ursa hesitantly agreed, silently planning to carry Azula back to her own bed before Ozai awoke for work. The man would be horrifyingly angry if he ever found out his daughter was sleeping in the same bed as 'low scum.' It didn't end well the first (and last) time for Ursa, especially when Ozai saw Zuko standing _right there and_ \--

"Zuzu," Azula's voice broke Ursa out of her train of thoughts. The mother saw her daughter fiddle with her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from Ursa herself. While she was grateful that most parts of her children came from her, she worried about their father ever finding out. _Not that Azula would ever fiddle with her fingers in front of Ozai but_ \--

"Zuzu, may I sleep by your side please?" Azula softly asked. 

Ursa saw her son slightly smile at the question, signalling 'yes, of course!'. She carefully slid Zuko towards the middle of the mattress and patted a place by his side for Azula. The young girl happily laid down (carefully, of course) next to her brother and watched as her mother laid down next to them.

"Goodnight," Ursa whispered, placing an arm around her children protectively. 

She listened to the harbored breaths her son took, as well as the light breathing coming from her daughter. Such a contrast never failed to surprise her. As she looked at the seven-year-old and five-year-old in her arms, she once again made a vow--the same vow she made every night.

_When the time comes, and sacrifices have to be made, I'll stand in front of my own children before I let that bastard touch them one more time._

With that, Ursa closed her eyes, falling asleep.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Azula back in her own bed, and Zuko hidden away from plain sight, Ursa takes care of her husband's needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: domestic abuse, marital rape/sexual assault

It was early in the morning when Azula stirred in her sleep. She felt her body being lifted off of an uncomfortable slop of cushion. It dawned on her half-sleep mind that she was being lifted off of the thin mattress she fell asleep on last night. She found herself being held in someone's arms--no doubt, her mother. 

Ursa always did this. Whenever Azula slept in the same space as Zuko and their mother, she would always be moved to her room before her father awoke that morning. 

_Because last time,_ Azula reminded her sleepy mind, _Zuzu and mama got hurt. A lot._

She felt her mother quietly tiptoe down the hallway to her room. Her eyes drooped shut for what seemed like mere seconds. When she willed her eyes to open again, she found herself in her bed, gently being tucked in by her mother.

"'ama...?" Azula slurred her words, still tired and barely awake.

"Go to sleep, baby," she heard her mother whisper. "I'll wake you later."

Azula sluggishly nodded, turning to her side to fall asleep. She heard her mother's soft footsteps walk away from her. The bedroom door was quietly shut. Sleep overtook Azula as quickly as a blink of an eye. She herself knew that she wouldn't be awake again until the sun was much higher in the sky.

*********

**CW: marital rape/sexual assault**

Ursa knew not to fall asleep again. Once she made sure Azula was back in her own bedroom--away from Zuko--she quickly yet quietly hurried back to her own room.

Zuko's and her room.

Because Zuko 'didn't deserve a room until he learned to be a man', or whatever bullshit Ozai sputtered out while drunk out of his mind. Internally, Ursa scoffed. Zuko was still a boy-- _a child_. How was a child supposed to be a man?

She shook her head in disgust as she neared her room. Going inside, she made sure to quietly wake Zuko up from his slumber, who complied easily. It was routine.

Ursa gently lifted Zuko up from the mattress, giving him a once-over and checking to see if his injuries hurt more than last night. Finding that Zuko was indeed feeling a little less achy than last night, she sighed in relief and softly grabbed his hand. The two walked over to a tiny closet in the room, barely filled with clothes and other belongings.

 _'Because low scum don't deserve luxuries until they learn to act right.'_ Again, it was utter bullshit spoken by her husband. 

Ursa moved some belongings around to clear a way for Zuko before gesturing to him. The seven-year-old boy limped to a corner of the closet and laid down on the hidden array of pillows situated there. Once Ursa made sure her son looked comfortable and almost asleep, she repositioned their belongings to cut anyone's sight from the boy. 

No one would know he's there until he crawled out of the closet himself. He was safe.

Safe from Ozai.

Ursa then got up and headed to Ozai's room, making sure the door to her room was wide open. The door wasn't allowed to be closed anyway. 

_Because last time Ursa closed the door, Ozai made sure to step on her fingers for touching the knob in the first place._

She rapped her knuckles on Ozai's bedroom door gently before opening the closed bedroom door.

 _Closed,_ she scoffed in her head, _unlike the door in my room._

When she entered the room, she saw her husband laying soundly in his bed. The thought of holding one of his silk pillows over his face crossed her mind, but she knew better. He could just be awake, pretending to sleep.

He could kill her.

Instead, Ursa walked over to her husband's side, gently nudging him. He was already awake, for he opened his eyes quite easily and looked at her with a clouded vision.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled down at Ozai, masking her hatred with a sweet voice she learned to project over the years.

She watched as he looked into her eyes, hoping that he didn't want to hurt her so early in the morning. A few moments passed before she suddenly gasped, feeling her husband grab her and pin her on his bed. He was above her, smirking down at her. His cold eyes looked her over nonchalantly, as though he didn't care for her shock.

He began undressing her, not caring if something ripped. She winced when she heard the cheap fabric of her clothes tear at the force. When she was completely undressed, she felt him pause and softly stroke the injuries on her body.

_Injuries that he gave her._

"Your skin used to be like a canvas, Ursa," he commented. "Now, it's just so... bruised."

"I'm sorry," she dully said. Ozai always wanted her to apologize.

"If only you behaved, I wouldn't have to teach you right from wrong so much."

"I'm sorry."

"If only you were perfect."

"I'm sorry."

He paused his stroking, opting to roughly grab Ursa's jaw. He looked deeply into her eyes, dropping his smirk. His cold eyes bruised her more than his fists.

"I love you," he said.

Ursa smiled as genuinely as she could portray. "I love you, too."

His cold eyes didn't drop, but his gaze did. She knew what he was going to do. She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to think it.

As... _it_... happened, with his body over her, with his rough groans in her ear, Ursa looked at the ceiling and imagined a starry sky. It was a little difficult to do with the sun peaking out of the drawn curtains, but she made do. 

_One day,_ she thought to herself, _when I'm able to run away, I'll be able to lie in the grass in a random park and watch the stars above. I'll take Zuko and Azula. While we watch the stars together, I'll feed them banana bread. We'll give the leftover banana bread to the ducks at the pond, and we'll watch tiny turtles floating by on lily pads. I'll tell them stories of the stars and the moon. I'll be a good mother one day._

As Ozai finished, grunting and getting off of his wife, he motioned for her to clean his room before he got back from work. She felt herself nod as he slid off the bed, going to his closet to retrieve business clothes. As her husband left to go take a shower, she got up and dressed in her torn clothes. She felt something run down her legs, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

 _At least I take birth control,_ she thought to herself, silently laughing at the thought.

Of course, if Ozai ever found out, he'd kill her.

_Not that she cared anymore._


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa just wanted to clip Zuko's nails. Who knew trauma could carry on for years without a sign of backing down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: child abuse

Zuko awoke a few hours later, a little disorientated and confused. It took him a while to realize that he was in the closet. He slowly rose from the array of pillows underneath him and sat up as much as he could, wincing when his limps and back ached. He stilled in his spot, waiting for any noise, before looking through a tiny opening between hanger-hung clothes.

No one. No one was there. 

As quietly as he could, Zuko crawled out of the closet and headed for the mattress in the corner of the room. He sat on the thin, cloth-like mattress, waiting for his mother. He looked down at his fingers as he waited, noticing how his nails had grown a bit since the last time they were trimmed.

 _Maybe I can make them shorter,_ the seven-year-old thought to himself. _Mama won't worry about cutting my nails if she doesn't see them._

Zuko brought his thumb to his mouth, using his teeth to bite down on the nail. His teeth hurt as he did (since Ozai swore that he would knock Zuko's teeth out if he ever bit him--which Zuko _did do_ last night), but the boy made do. Soon enough, he spit the chewed nail out onto the ground, admiring how short the nail on his thumb was now. At that moment, Ursa walked through the door and saw Zuko. She smiled at him as though he was the most precious thing to her.

Ursa came closer to her son and held his face in her hands gently. "Zuko, baby, what are you doing?"

Zuko smiled sheepishly at his mother; a light blush tinted his cheeks. Had he been caught?

The ever-so-gentle lady laughed at her son adoringly. Ursa removed her hands from his face before placing them on the boy's knees, gently rubbing out any soreness. She looked at the ground and saw the bitten part of his nail. She picked up it carefully, examining it before reaching over to hold Zuko's hands.

"We should cut your nails, baby," she sighed. "They've awfully grown."

"No..." Zuko whispered, his face falling in fear.

Ursa looked at her son's face and grew concerned. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Mama..." Zuko whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his mother. 

The woman securely held her son, gently bringing him into her lap before reaching up to smooth his ruffled hair. She waited for him to speak again. She could never rush him.

A few moments passed before Zuko asked in a quiet voice, "What if papa sees?"

Ursa froze before looking down at her son. He was right after all.

But Ozai was at work. Ozai wouldn't be able to know. Not like last time.

"Papa is at work, baby," she whispered to her son, "He won't see anything."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Ursa nodded, smiling down at her little angel. The light of her life. The apple of her eye. She held Zuko in her arms and got up, steadying the child into a comfortable position. The two walked to Ozai's room, carefully searching his personal shelf for a nail-clipper. Once they found it, they walked to their own bedroom and sat down on the mattress.

As Ursa went to grab Zuko's hand, she saw the boy quickly hide his hands and feet away from her. Her face dropped in sadness, knowing how scared he was.

 _I will send that bastard Ozai to hell,_ she cursed internally, her heart hurting for her child. 

She still couldn't fathom the idea that a mistake made two years ago could traumatize a child so much.

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse**

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"_

_Ursa and Zuko turned to see Ozai standing near their bedroom door. He was home early. He was supposed to be at work for the next two hours. What was he doing back home? Ursa's hands shook as she tried to hide the nail-clipper away from Ozai's sight, but it was too late. He saw them using his nail-clipper._

_"Papa...?" A voice called from behind Ozai. Azula, then only three-years-old, walked into the scene curiously._

_"Azula, go to your room," Ursa harshly ordered, afraid of what her husband would do to her youngest child._

_Suddenly, a hand reached out and yanked Ursa away from Zuko. The woman looked up to see Ozai clutching her hair in a fist, pulling it roughly and dragging her out of her room. Even through her pain, she could hear her children scream in fear for what was happening._

_And what would happen next._

_Ozai threw Ursa down on the ground, reaching to his waist to unbuckle his belt. He wound the end of his belt tightly around his hand and brought it down, not caring where it hurt the screaming lady on the ground. Ursa tried to crawl away, crying in pain as she pleaded for forgiveness._

_"Don't. Ever. Tell. My. Daughter. What. To. Do." Ozai's scarily steady voice broke through the ongoing screams coming from his wife. "Ever!"_

_The belting went on for a while. Ursa didn't know whether it had been minutes or hours. Eventually, she laid on the ground, barely moving. Barely conscious. She wasn't numb to the pain; it just hurt too much to move._

_She didn't realize when Ozai stopped. The only indication that he moved away from her were other screams. Zuko's screams. Ursa's body screamed at her for trying to move towards her bedroom. Her vision faded in and out as she dragged herself towards the screams--her son's screams._

_"PAPA, NO! PLEASE STOP PLEASE--!"_

_Zuko's screams terrified her. What was the bastard doing to her son?_

_In her clouded vision, Ursa saw Azula run toward her, tears dripping down her small face. Ursa reached up to her daughter cheeks, harshly wiping away the tears._

_"D-Don't cry..." her voice croaked. She looked into her daughters eyes, begging her with all the energy left in her, "Don't cry... or else... he... will... hurt... you..."_

_The last thing Ursa saw was Azula roughly wiping away her tears and nodding to her mother. Black dots appeared in her vision._

_Ursa passed out._

_She didn't know how long she was out for. When she regained consciousness, her vision blurred and she had a hard time breathing. Darkness surrounded the hallways this time, letting her know that Ozai had gone to bed._

_Correction. He left her body in the middle of the hallway, hurt her son, and then gone to bed. She didn't know what happened to Azula, but a gut feeling told her that her daughter was alright._

_Ursa willed her body to move. She held her breath in to control her screams of pain as she dragged herself towards her bedroom. Once she entered the open room, she saw Zuko and Azula huddled in a corner furthest from the door. Azula saw her first, gasping at the sight of her mother. Her tiny self carefully let go of Zuko, who looked to be either unconscious or asleep (Ursa hoped for the latter), and ran to her mother._

_"M-Mama!" Azula exclaimed in shock, quickly covering her mouth in fear when she realized she had yelled._

_The two girls froze, listening for any sound that showed Ozai was awake. When silence ensued, Ursa bit her bottom lips to conceal any yelp before lifting herself up. Azula followed her mother as the woman crawled over to her son, praying to any deity that he was unharmed._

_When she was in front of her oldest child, she raised her hand and gently cupped her face. She watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open, only for his face to contort in pain. Zuko flung himself onto his mother, and despite her body screaming in pain at the harsh movement, Ursa tightly wrapped her arms around her son as he quietly sobbed into her chest._

_He was hurt. Zuko, her baby, was hurt. Ursa turned her head to look over at Azula, scanning to youngest child for any injuries._

_Sensing her mother's concern, Azula assured in a quiet voice, "Papa only hurt Zuzu. Not me."_

_Not that it was much of a reassurance, but Ursa was at least glad that one of her babies was unharmed._

_"W-What..." Ursa winced at the croak in her voice. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She swallowed to clear the scratchiness, knowing her saliva was the only 'water' she could get at the moment. Taking a deep breath in, she continued, "W-What... happ... ened... to... Zu... ko...?"_

_Ursa felt Zuko cling to her tighter. It hurt her frame, but she didn't dare complain. Her baby was hurt. Who was she to deny him comfort?_

_Ursa heard her daughter's voice shake as the little girl explained, "Papa cut Zuzu's nails and made blood come out."_

_The mother froze in her spot before looking down at her son, who was still sobbing. She gently pulled him away to look at his hands, and the sight made her blood boil. His nails had been cut too deep, almost to the point that most of the skin near the nail had been ripped clean. Blood had dried around the boy's cuticles; some of the blood had even dripped and dried onto the palms and the backs of his hands. Ursa took a small glance at Zuko's feet, not surprised to find the same treatment. She knew she had to clean the wounds before they got infected, but at that moment, she wrapped her arms around her son and held him close._

_She watched as her son's body shook with more sobs. It was probably from pain. Or from shock. Or both._

_In the corner of her eye, she saw her daughter shifting from one foot to another._ _Ursa unwrapped one of her arms and gestured for Azula to come closer. The three-year-old slid to her mother's side and hugged her. As Ursa wrapped her arm around her daughter, she heard the young girl sniffle._

_"Mama," Azula said, looking away from Ursa, "May I cry now?"_

_Ursa held her daughter tighter. Closer._

_"Mama," Azula spoke again, this time with a crack in her voice, "I didn't cry when papa was here. And papa was happy. He said I was strong. And then he tucked me in to bed. But I waited for papa to go to his room and then I came here. Zuzu was crying, so I told him not to cry."_

_Ursa listened to her daughter's words. Her heart wretched at the thought of her children going through something so... violent? Sad? Heartbreaking? Evil? Traumatic?_

_"Mama," Azula continued, "Zuzu's crying now, and papa's not here. May I cry, too?"_

_"Go ahead, baby," Ursa whispered, feeling her own tears gather in her eyes._

_As she heard Azula cry, trying to muffle her cries with her tiny hand, she felt her son lift his head from her chest to look up at her. Ursa looked down, seeing tears still stream down his face._

_"Mama," Zuko whispered, "I'm sorry for not being strong."_

_"No, baby," Ursa sniffled. She shook her head, reaching to pat his hair with her shaking hand. "You're so strong, Zuko. So strong. Stronger than me."  
_

_She kissed the top of his head and held him tight, feeling him shake once again._

_The three sat there all night, holding each other. Crying._

_But they were safest with each other, even if it was for a few hours._

*********

"Zuzu? Mama?" a sleepy voice called out. 

Ursa turned to the doorway and saw a half-asleep Azula leaning against the door frame, cutely rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a small fist. The mother watched as her daughter padded into the room and plopped down on the mattress next to her.

"Good morning, Azula," Zuko whispered to his sister, who in turn mumbled what sounded to be the same.

Ursa looked over at Azula's hands and saw her nails also needed to be trimmed. She gently grabbed her youngest child's hand and began cutting the excess nail. Azula let her mother trim all of her nails (even her feet, though it was a little hard because her feet were ticklish) before turning to her side and dozing off.

Ursa turned to Zuko and gently smiled at him. "See? There's nothing to be afraid of, baby. Your sister's not hurt. It won't hurt. I promise."

Zuko looked at his mother reluctantly, gulping in fear of the object in her hand.

"Please?" Ursa held out her hand, asking for Zuko's compliance.

It took a while. Zuko had looked at his sister, who was soundly asleep once again, and thoroughly noticed how unharmed she was. He then looked at his mother. She was gentle. She was loving. She would never hurt him.

 _Not like papa,_ he realized.

Slowly, he inched his way toward his mother and hesitantly gave her his hand. Occasionally, when fear clouded his mind too much, he would pull away and curl into himself. A little coaxing was needed before he would comply again. 

Ursa made sure not to hurt him. She avoided the scarring around his nails like a plague, trying not to open any blood wounds. She made sure to be patient, just like every other time she had clipped his nails. Eventually, his nails were trimmed. She watched as he carefully inspected his nails before smiling at his mother. She made sure to smile back even wider.

As Ursa gathered all the nail clippings from the mattress, she looked down at her nails and noticed that they had grown long. Very long.

Zuko noticed, too.

"Mama," he whispered, "You need to cut your nails."

Ursa gently smiled at her son, nodding before doing so. Once she was done, she grabbed the nail clippings and walked to the bathroom down the hall.

_If she left the nail clippings in the trash, Ozai would find out._

Instead, she walked over to the toilet and dumped the clippings into the bowl, flushing them down the drain. She then walked into Ozai's room and placed his nail-clippers back in their original position, seemingly untouched.

As Ursa walked back to her room--back to her children--she looked down at her now shortened nails and sighed.

She should have kept them long. That way, she could claw out the eyes of the bastard that hurt her children.

But then again, seeing Zuko's smile as she complied to his little request made her heart burst in joy.

Oh, how she'd give anything to see him smile forever. Forever and always. 


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa, Azula, and Zuko spent a day in happy thoughts. Things took a weird turn by the time dinner was served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: n/a

When Azula rose from her little slumber, she went downstairs to the living room area. There sat Zuko and Ursa, just about finishing up breakfast. As Azula sat down to eat, she listened to the soft murmurs between her two most favorite people. The food she had was delicious (as always), and she quickly obliged in helping clean up after the meal. The rest of the time was spent playing with candles, just as Azula had proposed the night before.

Ursa brought out candles she had secretly collected for her children. She lit them with matches she found in a kitchen drawer, making sure to bury the used match deep into the trash can to avoid Ozai's 'do-not-use-anything-in-this-household-without-permission' rule. When she got back, she saw her children with socks draped on their hands, running around the candles she lit.

"The blue dragon needs to master controlling fire!" Azula screeched, laughing at the end of her statement.

Ursa watched as Zuko stopped chasing his sister around the candles and held his blue sock dragon in the air. "Then you'll have to teach him, Princess Azula!"

Azula gasped, holding her red sock dragon behind her back defensively. "But... But what if I'm not good enough?"

"Don't worry, princess Azula!" Zuko started waving his socked hand in the air, mimicking the 'dragon' flying. "Trying is the best form of teaching!"

"But what if I'm not perfect, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko paused, seeming to think about that statement. He then turned to Ursa, who had been watching the pretend-play adoringly. He smiled triumphantly, pointing to his mother before exclaiming, "Then mama can help! Because she's the queen! And the queen of dragons knows how to control fire!"

Ursa laughed as she saw her daughter look over at her with admiration and pride. She walked over to her children and sat down, pulling a spare white sock over her hand and playing along.

"Why, yes!" she said pointedly. "It appears that I, the queen of dragons, knows how to control the fire spirits in this universe!"

Azula gasped once more, jumping in her spot in excitement, "Really?! Is that true, mama?! Can you really control fire?!"

Ursa nodded, smiling at her youngest. She heard her oldest child clearing his throat, trying to get her attention.

When she turned to look at Zuko, he gave her a look of playful suspicion. With a small pout and squinted eyes, he asked, "How do we know that you aren't a liar?"

Ursa thought long and hard, trying to think of a way to prove her claim. When an idea hit her, she looked at her children and whispered, "If I show you a trick, will you promise to keep it a secret forever? Forever and always?"

When both of her children nodded, she smiled and picked up a candle.

"Now, look," she demonstrated, "See the candle? See the fire flickering?"

Zuko and Azula leaned closer, nodding when they saw the tiny flame.

Ursa continued, "I can show you how to control the fire in one simple way. Ready?"

She saw her children nod once more. With their eyes fixed on both her and the candle's flame, Ursa took one breath in and blew gently, putting the flame out completely. Azula's eyes widened massively, almost as though she had been shown a high-profile magic trick. Zuko, on the other hand...

"That's cheating!" he claimed. "You just blew out the flame!"

"Exactly!" Ursa smiled at her oldest child.

"But that's not controlling the flame!"

Ursa sighed gently, pointing to the candle mischievously. "Of course it is! Did you see a flame before it disappeared?"

Zuko paused before answering, "Yes?"

"And is the flame now more... relaxed?"

Zuko nodded slowly, a little confused. "I think?"

"So would you say that the flame is controlled?"

Zuko looked at his mother, whose eyes twinkled in a playful manner. He smiled at her as though he had been told the funniest joke, only to bow down in front of the woman.

"All hail the queen of dragons!" Zuko paused when he saw Azula bowing down in the corner of his eye. "She has controlled the fire for all kingdoms in the land!"

Ursa laughed humbly, raising her sock hand and waving it in the air, showing the 'white dragon' flying in the wind. The three played pretend until it was time to set up for lunch. As Ursa made food for the three of them, Zuko took Azula to the bathroom. As usual, they had been instructed to bathe before eating lunch. Zuko made sure the water had been just the right temperature before telling Azula that it was her turn. The boy was fine taking cold showers, since that was all he was allowed anyway.

On more than one occasion, however, Azula made sure to trick Zuko into taking a warm shower. This time was one of those many occasions. 

"Zuzu!" Azula called out to her brother about two minutes into her shower. "I need help washing my hair!"

Zuko tilted his head in confusion. "But your hair is already wet."

Azula huffed, annoyed at her brother's oblivious nature. "It doesn't mean I put shampoo in it!"

Zuko shrugged, opting to shed his clothes to avoid getting them wet. As soon as he got into the shower, he helped his sister with her hair, then turned around to allow her some privacy. Azula finished her shower quickly, being sure to safe enough hot water for Zuko. The five-year-old toweled off, waiting for her brother to finish his shower.

As soon as Zuko was done, Azula gave him a spare towel. She tried not to stare too much at the brown spots on her brother's torso, nor did she comment on the way certain parts of his sides stuck out differently. Once Zuko was done drying, the two children walked to their separate rooms to dress. Zuko met back up with Azula in her room, where she was struggling to pull a shirt over her head. The boy laughed, walking over to help his sister dress.

Sure, Azula grumbled about not needing help, but Zuko could care less. She was his sister; it was his job to look out for her.

Once they dressed, they helped each other towel dry their hair. They sat in the backyard later, facing their hair towards the sun to help the strands completely dry. By the time they were done, they ate lunch with their mother. As their mother went to go clean up their dishes, the children cleaned up their mess from the pretend-play session earlier. They made sure to hide the candles in the little compartment drawer their mother used.

They even helped their mother clean all the rooms in the house, especially their father's room. 

When Ursa went to fix dinner, Zuko and Azula sat down on the living room couch, reading books. Ozai was just about to come home, and he expected everything to be done correctly. 

That also meant having perfect children. Reading books made them look smart. Sophisticated. Knowledgeable. Perfect.

When Ozai came home, he brought a happy aura with him. It was strange. Ursa sensed it as soon as he walked through the front door, wondering what had caused such a mood. Zuko dared to look up from his book, only to see his father smile down at him in a way the boy could only describe as unusual. Even Azula grew confused at the sudden behavior.

"Honey! How are you?" Ozai called out to Ursa, walking over to wrap his arm around her and kiss her forehead gently. Ursa stilled at the sudden action, but quickly started acting accordingly. She laughed as delightfully as she could and kissed his cheek, asking him how work was.

"Work was great! I might be considered to getting a promotion!" Ozai turned away from his wife and headed over to his children.

As the man drew closer, Zuko flinched at what he thought was going to happen. Why was his father acting weird today? The boy didn't expect his father--an abusive man--to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and kiss the top of his hair.

"Zuko, my son!" Ozai bellowed. "Nice book! What are you reading, my boy?"

Zuko froze, quietly muttering the title of the book.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't hear you. What was that?" His father asked so... genuinely?

"T-The Great Gatsby... sir..." Zuko stuttered. He avoided all eye contact with his father, not wanting to see how the man looked at him.

It was weird. All too weird.

"And you?" Ozai turned his attention away from Zuko and looked at Azula. "What about you, Azula? What are you reading, my dearest daughter?"

At least the attention Azula received was unchanged. Ozai always treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"Aesop's Fables!" Azula answered, grinning.

"That's great!" Ozai laughed. "I'm proud of you! Both of you!"

Ursa, Zuko, and Azula all listened to the man talk about how wonderful his family was. Ursa, trying to find some normalcy, told her husband that she had cooked dinner and that they should all probably start eating now. Normally, he would sent Ursa and Zuko to their room, only allowing Azula to eat at the table with him. Normally, his wife and son would eat cold leftover food if Ozai didn't think to throw out whatever was left. But today...

"Great! Let's all wash up and eat! Ursa, do you need any help setting up the table?" Ozai looked at his wife, seemingly waiting for orders.

Ursa froze, shocked to her core. In her peripheral vision, she could see Zuko looking at his father with wide eyes. Even Azula's mouth dropped open. The woman looked back at her husband and smiled, letting him know that she could set up the table herself. Ozai thanked her and went to go wash up for dinner, leaving his three family members downstairs in shock.

Zuko and Azula all hesitantly went to go wash their hands, seating themselves at the table as they watched their mother bring out food she had prepared. Zuko sat still in his seat, trying to remember the last time he had a meal with his father. As Ozai came to the table, he looked at his wife and complimented her cooking, telling her how lovely the food looked.

"But, of course," Ozai laughed, winked at Ursa, "You look lovelier!"

Ursa blushed.

What was happening?

Just as Ozai was about to sit down, the doorbell rang. In a matter of seconds, Ozai sprinted to unlock the door, laughing wholeheartedly when he met the person at the door. The other three watched as a strange man walked into their home, laughing with their father. When the two men got to the table, Ozai left to go grab the strange man a plate and dining utensils.

As all the people in the house became seated at the same table--all at the same time--Ozai turned to his family and announced in a booming voice, "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my boss, CEO of Firelord Instustries, Mr. Zhao!"

"Please," the strange man laughed, "Just call me Zhao! And you two," he turned to the two children at the table, smiling widely, "You two can call me Uncle Zhao."

As Ozai laughed, Ursa looked at the strange man--Zhao--in confusion. Was he the reason her husband was in such a good mood? She looked over at her children, noticing how Azula giggled at a joke Zhao must have made. When her eyes made their way towards Zuko, she noticed how still he was. Her son looked up to meet her eyes, showing his confusion at the entire situation. 

Ursa smiled gently, letting her son know that she understood his dilemma. She instead reached out to start serving everyone food, smiling at the compliments made at her cooking. She smiled wider when Zhao told her that her food was by far the best homemade food he had ever tasted.

"Hell, it beats my own mother's cooking!" Zhao then turned to Ozai, "You never told me you came home to good food every day! I demand to be invited every night! The best food in all of the universe. I'd give your wife the job of being my own personal chef if you'd allow me to!"

As Ozai laughed, Zhao turned to the two children, smiling once more. As Azula smiled back, Ursa and Zuko looked at each other.

They both felt it.

Something about that smile felt off.

Hell, everything about Zhao felt off.

But at least they were happy, right? At least everything was peaceful tonight, right?

_...Right?_


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was seven when he sat in front of his sister's bedroom door, determined to protect her from the strange man drinking beer with his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: n/a, (but there are slight mentions of pedophilia)

Dinner that night was peaceful. It was strange. 

Peaceful, but strange. Highly unusual.

As it turned out, the CEO of Firelord Industries was planning on giving Ozai a promotion. The current CEO had been offered a position as Chairman of the company. That made it possible for Ozai to become the next CEO. 

_That_ explained Ozai's good mood. He was getting a raise, as well as more power in his own career. He wanted to make a good first impression with his family, which evidently did happen.

_But still..._

Zuko made sure to eat everything on his plate, not wanting to give his father a reason to hurt him. It seemed that his mother had done the same. Ursa and Zuko would never leave leftovers, since they weren't given much to eat normally. 

But tonight, everything was just so hard to swallow. The food tasted great, but Zuko had to force himself to eat. It was hard to eat comfortably knowing that the man he feared was sitting _right there._

Once dinner was done, and dessert was served and eaten, Zuko said his goodbyes to everyone as politely as he could before running off to bed. He heard Zhao laugh at his retreating form, telling Ozai how cute the boy was.

 _Cute._ He had never been called that before by a _man_. Only his mother ever called him cute--adorable, even. Sometimes Azula did it to be funny, but no _man_ has ever...

Not that there was anything wrong with it.

It just sounded a little weird coming from Zhao. _Uncle Zhao._

"Of course," he heard his father bellow, "He is my son, after all!"

The two men shared a laugh. He heard Zhao say something about how Zuko looked a lot like his mother, to which Ozai agreed.

"But your daughter, I must admit, looks _exactly_ like you, Ozai!" Zhao laughed wholeheartedly. "She even acts just like you! A little clone!"

Zuko reached his bedroom and halted. He wanted to go to sleep, but his mother wasn't there with him. He instead sat in the hallway, close enough to the door so that he could run inside if someone other than Ursa or Azula saw him. A little while later, his ears picked up his mother's voice from the living room, letting everyone know that she needed to retire for the night. He could hear her tell Azula that they both needed to go to sleep, and that they should leave the two men be.

"Let her stay," he heard Zhao-- _Uncle Zhao?_ \--tell Ursa. "She's just like her father to the point that it fascinates me! I must get to know the father and daughter duo better!"

He heard his mother laugh before agreeing. He listened to her footsteps walking up the stairs and towards the hallway. Once she got to their room, Zuko stood up and followed his mother inside.

"Mama, where's Azula?" Zuko looked toward the hallway, wanting to see if his sister would come.

Ursa sighed, "I think she'll go to bed later than the both of us, baby. Your father and Uncle Zhao said so."

"But why?"

"I don't know, baby."

Zuko paused before asking, "Mama, may I please go check on Azula?"

Ursa turned to look at her son in confusion. "Why is that?"

The boy shrugged, casting his eyes down. He studied the way his feet fidgeted at the question, not knowing how to answer without sounding rude. After much thought, Zuko whispered, "Uncle Zhao makes me feel weird in a bad way."

Ursa crouched down near her son, looking at his nervous form. He was right, of course. Zhao made her wary-- _very wary_. On top of that, her daughter was near the man. She wanted to object to leaving Azula there, but her fear of Ozai made her weak. 

The woman nodded, "Sure, baby. Just be very sneaky. Don't get caught, okay?"

Zuko looked up at his mother and nodded, going in for a quick hug before quietly running off. Ursa smiled as her son left, a little worried but mostly proud. 

He was a great brother. She hoped that he would always be this great.

Meanwhile, Zuko had managed to get across the hallway and hide near the staircase. He peered down the stairs, somewhat relieved at the full view he had of the living room. There sat Zhao and Ozai, laughing and having beers with one another.

And there was Azula, standing in the middle of the living room, looking at the two men on the couch.

Or rather, the two men were looking at her.

Zuko knew his father was nearly piss-drunk. Zhao, on the other hand, seems coherent. Strangely coherent.

"She's a beauty, Ozai," he heard Zhao say.

"Uh huh," his father slurred, "Yeah."

Zuko peered closer at the scene, watching how Zhao instructed Azula to twirl. The boy felt weird watching his sister spin in a slow circle for a stranger, but he didn't know why. Why did it look so... unusual?

"Papa," he heard his sister say, "I must go to bed now."

Ozai waved his hand, shooing his daughter away. Zuko watched his sister look over at Zhao and quickly run toward the staircase. The boy waited for his sister to reach the top of the stairs before pulling her towards him. He felt a little guilty from the way the girl almost tripped over her feet, but nonetheless led her down the hall towards her bedroom.

Once there, he looked around before going inside her bedroom, pulling his sister in with him. He closed the bedroom door, locking it securely. Zuko then turned to his sister, examining her for any injuries.

"Are you hurt? Was Uncle Zhao a meanie?" he whispered.

Azula shook her head. "No. Uncle Zhao is nice."

Zuko looked at his sister, concern written all over his face. "Does he seem weird to you?"

Azula shrugged, not knowing how to answer. "No. I guess he has weird jokes?"

The boy nodded, patting his sister's hair and smiling at her. He told her how proud he was of her. He told her how smart she was for making an excuse to go to bed.

"But it wasn't an excuse!" she whined. "I was tired, Zuzu. I wanna sleep!"

Zuko sighed, flicking his sister's forehead playfully. She rubbed the spot he flicked, annoyed at the action. Zuko made sure to send her to bed, watching her shuffle under her covers. He went over to tuck her in, wishing her sweet dreams. Once she closed her eyes, Zuko went to the bedroom door and opened it, running to his room.

He peered inside and saw his mother already lying down on the mattress with a thin blanket draped over her. As he went closer, he saw her breathe in and out softly, signalling that she was already sound asleep.

Zuko smiled at his mother, leaning over to give her a kiss on her forehead. As he went to climb onto the mattress beside his mother, he froze. A sudden thought occurred to him. 

His mother had been tired. She was deeply asleep, but she was still a light sleeper. On top of that, she was an adult.

As much as Zuko wanted to protect his mother, his sister had been sleeping in another room. With an open door that he accidentally forgot to close. While a strange man that made his gut twist weirdly sat in the living room.

His mother might be able to defend herself, but his sister was too tiny. Too small.

Knowing that Ozai would be too drunk to notice until the morning, Zuko quietly exited his room and closed the bedroom door behind him. He then quietly ran over to Azula's room, going inside her room and closing the door. He didn't lock it this time, fearing that his mother might need to come in if she was in trouble, but he sat by the door with his back pressed against it.

No one would be able to get into his sister's room without him noticing.

Especially not _Uncle Zhao_.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after last night, everything almost goes back to how it used to be. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: domestic abuse, panic/anxiety attacks

**CW: descriptions of domestic abuse**

The morning after, everything went back to almost being normal. Zhao had left later that night, perhaps to go back to his own home. Whatever the reason was, it left Ozai alone in the living room. The man never made it back to his bedroom, having been to drunk to do so. When morning came, he woke up to a raging headache and sore neck. 

Of course, it wasn't his fault at all. As soon as Ursa came downstairs to start preparing breakfast for the family, he lashed out. 

Because, obviously, everything was her fault.

He got up off the couch and walked towards his wife, taking in how happy she looked. 

Why was she happy? She shouldn't be this happy. She should be miserable. After all, this was all her fault.

When he came close enough, he raised his hand in the air and slapped her, watching the polite grin on her face disappear. It satisfied him. He had... power.

"Now, you answer me correctly this very moment," he said in a low, sinister voice, "Why in the world was I on that goddamn couch instead of my own bed?"

He watched as Ursa looked at him in fear, trailing her eyes from his form to the couch in the living room. She nervously brought her hands together, wringing them tensely as they shook uncontrollably. 

She gulped. "I-I... I don't know...?"

Ozai grabbed her throat and dragged her to the nearest wall, slamming her back against it. He heard her cough from her loss of breath, and watched her try to claw his hand away from her throat. He pressed up against her, right near her ear, and yelled.

"You don't know?! Why the fuck don't you know?! Do I have to spell out very little thing for you?! The _very least_ you could do was bring me to my bed!" Ozai tightened his grip on her neck. "Better yet, you could have stopped me from drinking _in the first place_! God, you are such a stupid bitch!"

He could hear her sob in panic, still trying her best to get his hand off of her throat.

A panic attack. Or was it from anxiety? Either way, it disgusted him.

It was weak. Ursa was weak. He married a weakling, who in turn gave him another weakling: Zuko.

Ozai took his hand off of her throat, watching as she gasped in as much air as she could. As soon as she gasped, he swung his hand across her face, making the woman fall to the ground. He watched as she covered her face with her arms, still sobbing.

Still panicking.

He scoffed. "Pick yourself off the ground." 

When she didn't move, he kicked her until she started screaming. It angered him. After all the nice words he uttered last night, after all the loving gestures he showed her, she was still so useless. So undeserving. That's why she couldn't have nice things. 

And if she couldn't have nice things, then the other fuck-up in the family couldn't either. After all, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. If Ursa couldn't behave correctly, how could he expect Zuko to do the same?

At least he had his daughter. At least he had Azula. Azula was perfect. She would never be a fuck-up. Never.

He took a glance at the nearest clock on the wall. It was nearly 8:30 a.m. He had an hour to get ready and be at work. If he hurried, he'd be able to get breakfast on the way. From the dinner he ate last night, he didn't want to eat another meal made by the woman on the floor again. Disgust rolled off the man as he gave his panicking wife one more kick to her ribs before walking upstairs to get ready for work.

After all, he had a promotion to catch.

*********

Zuko woke up to the sounds of someone walking up the staircase. His back ached as he moved to sit up from his position on the floor. He stayed in Azula's room all night, watching over her. Even when he heard the front door of their house opening, he didn't move.

Even when there was total silence in the house.

Even when all that Zuko could hear was Azula's soft snores.

Because Zhao could still be at their house. Zhao could just be a very quiet person.

No one went up the staircase the entire night, which relieved Zuko enough to doze off. When he heard the footsteps from now go towards the bathroom, he got up from the floor and quietly opened the bedroom door. 

No one.

The seven-year-old boy stepped out into the hallway and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him. He sprinted towards his room, noticing that the door had been opened. His mother was gone.

Perhaps she was downstairs?

Zuko went down the hallway and peered into the living room from his spot near the staircase. His father wasn't there. That meant the man had walked upstairs and gone to take a shower. Zhao wasn't there either.

Perhaps the other man had left?

Zuko quickly came down the stairs and turned to go to the kitchen. As he turned the corner, he froze. Both stress and concern filled his mind when he saw his mother on the floor, gasping for air and clutching her sides.

He ran towards her, cradling her head in his arms and looking her over for injuries. Her face was stained with her tears, which Zuko wiped away as each drop fell from her eyes. The boy breathed in and out deeply and loudly--the same way his mother had done when he found his throat constricting from panic. 

_"See, when you hear another person breathing,"_ Ursa once told him after he calmed down enough from a panic attack, _"Your brain begins to focus on breathing normally. Because other people are breathing normally, and your brain wants you to be normal! It's a fun little trick!"_

Zuko watched as his mother's shallow breathing stopped being so quick. He watched as her chest fell and rose in a more rhythmic way. It took some time, of course, but soon enough, his mother was breathing again. Normally.

Just like how she taught Zuko to. 

In his arms, Zuko could see that tears still fell from his mother's eyes. He carefully wiped them away, holding her face a little more gentler in his arms. 

"Did papa hurt you?" he asked.

He watched as his mother nodded. His heart fell to his stomach.

 _But papa was nice_ , he thought to himself. _Why would he be mean again?_

Zuko watched as his mother took a deep breath in and leaned over to sit up. He let go of her head, instead putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Ursa placed her hands on the wall and slowly stood up. Zuko grabbed onto her legs, trying his best to keep her from tipping over. Slowly, the two went up the stairs. When they got to the top of the staircase, they could hear the shower turning off. 

Zuko led his mother to their bedroom. Once inside, he guided her now-shaking form towards the thin mattress, flinching when she winced as she sat down. 

"Mama," he whispered, "Are you hurting a lot?" 

"I'm fine, baby," his mother winced again. She clutched her side as pain started painting itself into her face.

"Are you sure?" Zuko placed his hands on top of his mother's hands. "I could check for you if you want--"

"I said I'm fine, Zuko," Ursa spit out, hissing as more pain erupted from her ribs.

Zuko flinched and quickly took his hands off of his mother. He stepped back from the woman. His eyes widened in fear. Did he hurt her? Of course he did. His mother always got hurt when Zuko stepped in the way and screwed everything up. He cast his eyes down and started to wring his hands nervously, trying to stop them from shaking.

"Z-Zuko?" he heard his mother say. 

The boy looked up at his mother, seeing how terrified she looked. Did he cause that? Did he scare his own mother?

"B-Baby?" Ursa tried to reach out to her son, sucking in a harsh breath as her ribs ached. "B-Baby, I'm so sorry."

She reach over just enough to grab the boy's hand, feeling them shake in her own. Guilt settled into her as her gut wrenched.

She scared her son. Her baby. 

_Just like his father,_ a little voice in her mind scolded.

Ursa gently pulled Zuko closer, enough so that she could hold his face in her hand ever so gently. She looked into his frightened eyes and felt like crying. What had she done?

"Zuko, baby," she gently spoke, "I'm so sorry. Mama is so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Mama didn't mean to."

The fear in her son's eyes didn't falter. She felt tears in her own eyes collect for the second time that day.

"Baby," she continued, "Mama is just a little hurt. But I'll be fine. Thank you for asking if I was okay, but mama just needs to rest. Okay?"

She saw Zuko nod. Ursa reached up and gently ruffled her son's hair. She pulled him close, choosing to ignore the harsh pain near her ribs when she felt Zuko's arms around her. Who was she to deny her son a hug?

"Do you forgive me, baby?" she whispered into his ear. She felt tears drop from her eyes. "I promise I'll never do that again. Never."

"It's okay, mama," she heard her son mumble back. 

It made her smile. His willingness to forgive everything and anything made her smile. It made her proud.

But it also made her sad. His willingness to forgive extended to every scum that ever lived. Scum that didn't deserve forgiveness.

As Zuko felt his mother rub his back comfortingly, he heard her ask if he wanted to lie down with her on the mattress. He obliged, settling into the thin mattress as he waited for his mother to do the same. He heard her raspy breathing as she lied on her back, extending an arm out for him to sleep on. He shuffled closer, resting his head near her shoulder and adjusting the thin blanket at the side of the mattress.

As Ursa began to fall asleep, Zuko laid there, staring at the bedroom door. He heard his father exit the bathroom. He heard his father walk down the stairs. He heard the front door open and close, signalling his father having left for work. 

He heard his sister's bedroom door open down the hallway. He heard her soft footsteps walk towards his bedroom. He heard her ask if she could sleep on the mattress with him and their mother.

He felt himself nod.

He heard soft shuffling and felt the thin mattress just barely dip. 

He felt the thin blanket being extended.

He felt his sister's tiny arms go around his torso.

He heard his sister's soft snores.

He even felt a little drool seeping into the back of his shirt (Azula always drooled).

Yet, somewhere in his mind, he couldn't shake off his mother's state. He couldn't shake off her pain, nor could he shake off her harsh words (even though she apologized).

Somehow, Zuko felt that this was all his fault.

 _Because papa is right_ , the boy reminded himself, _everything is always your fault._


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozai and Zhao got their promotions, which prompted a celebration on the same day as Zuko's birthday. Not only was his birthday mixed up with Azula's, but the first day of school had snuck up on him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: n/a

Days went by and continued the same. Ozai would come home in a happier mood than the last day, telling his family how proud of them he was and how much he loved everyone. Zhao would somehow always show up at their house for dinner, only to leave every night after a beer with Ozai. Ozai would wake up every morning (in the living room or-- _surprisingly_ \--in his own bed sometimes). The abuse would start over again in the morning, with Ozai leaving the house without breakfast. Ursa and her children would carry on with their days until it was time for Ozai to come home. When Ozai came home, the cycle just repeated. 

Regarding Zhao... he wasn't a bad guest.

Even though Ursa, Zuko, and Azula found it odd that the older man was always there, they never _really_ had any complaints. Zhao was polite, put-together, and laid-back. He would always compliment Ursa on her cooking, looking forward to trying every single meal she had made. He would always be there to put Ozai in a better mood, taking his mind off of work and putting it onto more enjoyable parts of life.

Most importantly, he was always nice to Zuko and Azula. He would joke around with them, play small games with them, and tell them stories about his work. He would offer compliments to each of the children without any hesitation or reluctance. He even brought them presents from time to time.

The two children would always hear their parents tell Zhao that presents were not needed. That he was spoiling the two. That it was unnecessary.

"But I'm their Uncle Zhao!" the man bellowed each time. "Let me do something nice for the _two most special kids_ in the _entire world_!"

For once, Zuko felt whole. He felt complete at nights like this, where everyone in his family was laughing and having a good time together. Everything that Zuko could ever hope for had come true, all because of one strange man.

He finally had a happy family, even if it was only for a few hours.

_All because of Uncle Zhao._

Sure, the boy had to sit in his sister's room at night because a little voice in his head told him to do so. Sure, there were times where the boy dragged his sleepy sister into his own room, all because the same little voice told him it would be safer for whatever reason. And sure, maybe Zhao made him feel a little wary because the little voice told him that something was subtly off about the strange nice man.

But Zhao made everything better. He was Uncle Zhao. 

Days passed until a month had gone by. By that time, Zhao had become the Chairman of Firelord Industries. The man then used his position to promote Ozai to CEO of the same company. The day that happened, Zhao had come by with champagne to celebrate the occasion. The man popped the bottle and poured the fizzing beverage into glasses, immediately giving one to Ozai. 

"No, thank you," Ursa laughed politely when she was offered a glass. "I don't drink."

"You're just like my late-wife!" Zhao laughed. "She never drank either!"

As the three adults shared a drink together, Zuko and Azula stayed in the living room reading their books. Zuko almost didn't hear his father come behind the them. _Almost_.

The boy jumped when he heard his father's voice right him. "This day has been such a success that I almost forgot what day it is!"

"The same day as today?" he heard Zhao ask. "What possibly could be more important than a promotion, Ozai?"

"Today is my daughter's birthday!" Ozai bent over to pick Azula up, setting her into his arms as he straightened his back. "My Azula is now six, isn't that right?"

Zuko turned around to see his sister smile at all the adults in the room, hiding her confusion at the attention she was receiving. Peering over into the kitchen, the boy could see his mother looking at him, gently smiling because she knew.

_She knew that it was actually Zuko's birthday. Ozai just forgot._

August 15th was Zuko's birthday. That was today. He was now eight-years-old. Azula's birthday was the first day of November. Her birthday was months later. She was still five.

But would anyone dare correct Ozai? Never. 

Zuko looked over at Zhao to observe his reaction to the news. The boy saw how the man looked at his sister. His eyes followed the man's eyes, watching them look up and down at Azula. He saw the man lick his lips in a subtle yet eager manner.

The little voice in Zuko's mind came back. 

_Get Azula away from Uncle Zhao_ , it told him. _Do it fast and do it now._

Zuko didn't know why, but something did indeed feel wrong. 

Yet Zhao wasn't hurting anyone. Everyone was still safe. No one was in any direct danger. If anything, Zuko could bring Azula to his own room to sleep that night. 

Zuko heard Zhao mention something about getting Azula a present the next time he arrived. After that, he tuned out the rest of the conversation. He turned his attention back to his book, waiting for his mother to secretly tap him on the shoulder to signal that she was headed to bed. Once he felt the tap, Zuko tucked his book under his arm and grabbed his sister's hand, leading her upstairs to his bedroom. 

Zuko made sure to close the door that night and tilt his book against it. The lock didn't work anymore (Ozai jammed it), but the book was thick enough to make a sound if it dropped. Confident that no one would enter the room without making a sound, Zuko climbed onto the mattress with his mother and sister and dozed off.

The little voice in his head dyed down that night.

*********

The night had passed all the same until Zuko was shaken awake by Azula. His vision blurred from sleep, but he could tell that his sister was excited.

"Zuzu, wake up!" Azula shook him a little harder when she saw him try to go back to sleep. "Today's our first day of school! We're going to school again!"

Oh right. Somehow, it slipped Zuko's mind.

Summer vacation had ended. 

School had started. A day after his birthday.

Zuko groaned as he got up, yawning from the lack of sleep. "'zula, it's five in the mornin'..."

"Yeah!" Azula bounced in her spot from excitement.

Zuko slurred out, "Which means we have three hours until school starts..."

"Uh huh!" Azula kept bouncing.

"Which means we can sleep for one more hour..."

Azula stopped bouncing, pouting in realization. "So it's too early for school?'

Zuko nodded, sleepily smiling at his sister. He watched as her shoulder's slumped in disappointment; her pout intensified dramatically. He gently laughed, nudging her back onto the mattress. The boy turned his head and noticed how their mother had still been asleep. He waited for his sister to settle into bed before lying back down and closing his eyes.

The last thing he heard before dozing back off to sleep was a tiny whisper in his ear, promising him, _"Zuzu, I'm going to wake you up in one hour so we can get ready for school, okay?"_

That time, the little voice in Zuko's head told him that everything was perfect.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was eight when he saw his mother lying in a pool of her own blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: character death, child abuse, manipulation

As promised, Azula started to shake Zuko awake exactly an hour later that morning. Zuko groaned at the pseudo earthquake his sister was causing, stirring him away from the dream his mind almost conjured. He raised his hands to push his sister away, which only proved to be a feeble attempt on his part.

"'zula... noooo..." Zuko huffed, still half-asleep. 

Azula huffed back, annoyed at the weak hands trying to push her away. "Zuzu, wake up! It's already an hour later! I watched the clock in your room and it's _exactly_ 6:03! That's _exactly_ one hour after you started snoring!"

Zuko let out a sound resembling a groan and a cry of frustration. It only made Azula try to shake him harder, becoming more annoyed because _'Z_ _uzu promised to wake up one hour later!'_

Zuko sluggishly turned to his side, too tired to bother pushing his sister away. The eight-year-old had made up his mind; Azula could do anything she wanted to at this point. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He could hear his sister whine in the background as he drifted off to sleep again. Just as he was about to enter a state of near-unconsciousness, he found his body being lifted off of the mattress. 

"'zula, _stop_..." Zuko muttered, irritated that his sleep cycle had been disrupted once again.

A voice near him--not Azula, but someone familiar--chuckled at his attempts to lie back down. _"I'm not Azula, baby."_

Zuko opened his eyes, squinting to see his mother's face above him. When he came to, he realized she was holding him in her arms, snuggling him close. He sighed and snuggled closer, wanting to sleep. Ursa laughed at her son, but held him more securely in her arms. She turned to look at Azula, who had a pout playing on her lips.

Ursa cooed, walking over to her daughter and squatting down to meet her eyes. "Why the long face, baby?"

Azula's pout deepened. "I want cuddles, too." 

Ursa smiled, slowly unwrapping one arm around Zuko and bringing her daughter close to her. She saw the pout lessen into a sheepish smile. 

The three stayed that way, holding each other. After a while, Ursa let go of Azula and slowly untangled Zuko from her arms. She rushed them quietly to the bathroom, urging them to get ready for school. While Azula happily complied (such a weird, adorable child), Zuko needed a little bit of coaxing. Eventually, an hour later, both of Ursa's children sat on the living room couch in their school uniforms, making sure everything they needed was in their backpacks.

"Zuzu..." Azula whispered, leaning over Zuko's backpack. "Do you have an extra pencil? I don't have one."

Zuko dug into his pencil case and wordlessly gave his sister a spare pencil, smiling when she thanked him. The boy then looked over at his pencil case, feeling a little lost. In his own home, he barely got a mattress and casual clothes to wear. At home, he wasn't allowed to have things unless he earned them or deserved to have them.

But outside of his home, he had everything. Perhaps it was because his father didn't want his family to look bad in public. Maybe that's why he was given a pencil case made out of the finest leather. Or a backpack made out of durable jean material. Or the Quality A pencils, paper, notebooks, and binders _inside_ his backpack. Or a school uniform, as well as a replacement if the one he was wearing got damaged or lost. 

When Ursa called her children over for breakfast, Zuko mindlessly tucked his pencil case into his backpack and walked over to the dining room. He watched as Azula poured in her cereal and milk--doing the same when he was passed the box and carton. He ate in peace, sometimes joining into the little conversation between his mother and sister about school. 

In hindsight, no matter what, he _definitely_ was excited for school. Even if his mood was sullied by a small realization, and even if he didn't like waking up too early in the morning, he always looked forward to school. 

After breakfast, Azula and Zuko ran to put on their shoes (top quality and the latest brands) and grab their backpacks. Ursa shimmied the two children into jackets that she placed by the front door before grabbing her own coat and sunglasses. Zuko noticed how his mother had also dressed up in branded clothes his father had bought her. Even though he knew that she was specifically told to only wear fancy clothing when going outside, Zuko wished his mother dressed in better clothing on a daily. He hated seeing his mother in clothes that had holes larger than his own hand.

Ursa opened the front door and grabbed the keys settled in a welcome bowl near the door. She rushed her children out of the house before locking it up and walking over to a car parked in the driveway. Zuko and Azula climbed into the backseats and settled their backpacks under their feet. Their mother made sure they were buckled in before driving away, heading to their school in the latest model of a new car.

*********

Sure, the first day of school could be nerve-wrecking for many children, but Azula and Zuko stepped onto their campus with the confidence of a thousand men at war. Even though their father did teach them how to walk into a place confidently with stride and mobility, the two children didn't feel the need to use those techniques. 

Because at school, they were safe. No one hit them or yelled at them. They had friends and people they could trust. 

The intercom of their school rang in a pitch before the principal cleared his throat and spoke. _"Students of Fire Fountain Private Academy: I welcome you! Today is your first day of school. Please report to your classes in the next ten minutes and check in with your teachers. We, the staff of this wonderful school, wish you a great day!"_

Zuko and Azula waved to each other, walking away to their respective classes. With Azula being in first grade and Zuko being in third grade, they had classes on near opposite sides of the campus. Soon enough, their classes started and the two started learning. Zuko found himself understanding more of the material than the rest of the class, eagerly raising his hand politely to answer the teacher at any given chance. Azula, on the other hand, sat in her classroom bored and unfocused for the same reason, not wanting to participate in learning something that she already knew. 

When the students were all dismissed for a mid-day break, Zuko and Azula met up and talked about what they learned. As they discussed their day thus far, with Azula complaining how _easy_ everything was and Zuko laughing wholeheartedly at her misery, a girl ran up to the duo. Upon seeing her, Zuko's face lit up.

"Mai!" Zuko bounced in his spot. "How are you? You weren't in my class! I thought you were absent!"

Mai went in to hug Zuko, her best friend since first grade, before laughing and answering back, "I thought I was alone in school. Now I'm happy that we're all here together."

When Azula looked over at Zuko, she swore that his ears and cheeks turned red. She made a note in her mind to tease him about it later in the day.

The trio talked for a bit longer before everyone was called into their classrooms once more. After learning some more, lunch time came. Zuko and Mai sat together, discussing what their mothers had packed them that day. As they compared lunches, Azula came up with two other students behind her. She introduced them as Ty Lee and Aang. They were both in second grade, which prompted Zuko to ask his sister where she met the two, considering how Azula was still in first grade. 

"In the hallway!" answered the girl--Ty Lee--with a huge smile. "We were waiting for our teacher to open the door, and then I saw Azula! She had the same backpack as me! See?!" Ty Lee took off her backpack and held it up for everyone to see.

Azula also took off her backpack to show how similar they looked. The two girls even had the same key-chains attached to their zippers.

As for Aang, he and Ty Lee were desk mates. They talked so much within the first hour they were seated together that their teacher moved them to opposite sides of the room. That didn't mean their friendship would stop blooming. The two met up during their mid-day break and played together, deciding then and there that they would be best buds for life.

The five students sat down at the same table, talking and laughing with one another. Somehow, their conversation turned to be about their families. Ty Lee and Aang learned that Zuko and Azula were the children of the CEO of Firelord Industries and a housewife, while Mai's parents worked on the Board of Directors for the same company. Ty Lee mentioned how her parents managed circus shows before retiring early. Aang remained glued to his seat, fascinated by what he was hearing. When prompted to tell everyone what his parents did, he shrugged.

"I don't have parents yet!" Aang said with a smile. "I live in the orphanage here in Fire Fountain City!"

"Where... Sorry, but..." Zuko paused, unsure of how to ask his question. "...Where did your parents go? Your... _first..._ parents?"

"It's okay!" Aang smiled wider. "My parents went to the sky on a plane, but the plane crashed. And now their spirits are flying in the sky! Like a plane! Oh, actually, like a bird! They're spirit birds now! How cool is that?!"

Zuko smiled gently at Aang, watching as his sister and Ty Lee added on with other flying creatures. He heard 'like butterflies!' and 'no, bees!' before tuning out the conversation. He thought about his mother. He couldn't bear to lose her. His father--maybe? But _definitely_ not his own mother. He wondered how Aang could explain what happened so easily. He wondered how long Aang took to get over the death of his parents. _Especially since he was younger than Zuko._

When Zuko came to, he heard Aang say, "--and I might have a sister!" 

When the eight-year-old asked what Aang was talking about, Mai told him that a lovely couple in Gaoling (who might move to Ba Sing Se soon) had come with the hopes of adopting Aang. Since the family came from money, they convinced the orphanage to put the boy in a private school; all funds were paid by the couple themselves. The papers had yet to be finalized, but in a few more months, Aang would be part of a family again.

"But I hope you guys are also my family, too!" Aang cheered. "Because I think I love every second of the time we spend together!"

"You just met us, Aang," Mai deadpanned.

It didn't stop the boy from smiling wider than he had before. "Yeah, but I have a feeling all of us will be best friends forever and ever and ever!"

Lunch was over a few minutes later. As the five children separated, they made a silent promise to meet each other every day at school.

_As friends. Best friends. Forever and ever and ever._

*********

Zuko and Azula's day at school soon came to an end. They walked out of their classrooms, bid their new friends (and old friend Mai) goodbye, and went outside to their mother. Ursa was waiting near the campus gate, still dressed in her fancy clothes from the morning. Her children ran up and tackled her in a hug, laughing along their mother as she reached down to hug them back. 

They went home, showered and changed out of their uniforms, and started their homework. Ursa made sure her branded clothing was hidden away and changed into her 'house clothing'. By the time Ozai came home, his children had just about completed their homework, and his wife had just finished setting up for dinner. Zhao joined that night, just like he did every night, and brought Azula a present for her 'birthday'. 

Azula made a mental note to give it to Zuko when everyone was asleep. 

Dinner was served. Everyone had a good time. When Ozai and Zhao went to have a beer on the living room couch, Zuko and Azula grabbed their backpacks and went upstairs. Ursa followed soon after, making sure to hide Zuko's backpack in Azula's room. Azula handed the present she received from Zhao to Zuko, watching as he opened the wrapping.

"It's a fluffy bison!" Zuko whispered in awe.

Azula bounced in her spot, excited to see her brother happy. She clapped her hands as he carefully balanced the toy on his head; both of the children giggled in amazement. Zuko never got enough toys. Azula was happy she decided to give her present to Zuko because _at least Zuzu's happy._

The three fell asleep, listening to the sounds of drunken laughter coming from downstairs. At times like this, Zuko sometimes got up and rested a thick book against the closed bedroom door. The little voice in his head still told him to be wary of his Uncle Zhao--just in case.

Either way, the closed door never opened, and the thick book remained tilted by the bedroom door until the next morning.

*********

Their weekdays repeated like their school days. Their weekends repeated like their summer days. Zuko and Azula became closer with their new friends, Ty Lee and Aang. Mai had decided that she liked Ty Lee a bit better than her other friends, hence why the older girl made a point to constantly hug the ball of excitement any chance she got. 

Somehow, Ty Lee's hugs were better. Always. 

No one would be able to change Mai's mind.

As for Zuko, he noticed how easy it was to talk to Aang. It was as if Aang was a monk (yes, Zuko knew Aang was raised by monks as a child; that's not the point--). The eight-year-old found himself talking to the second grader so often that even Azula got annoyed.

"It's like you're _Aang's_ older brother, not mine!" she would huff, crossing her arms threateningly.

_Well, as threatening as a first grader could be._

Zuko would always pat Azula on the head and promised to pay attention to her more at home.

Despite the little bursts of jealousy from Azula, the random ideas conjured during playtime from Aang and Ty Lee, and the awkward sarcasm from Mai, Zuko found himself enjoying every little second with his friends. 

He _never_ had this much fun at home.

Days passed. Weeks. Soon, months.

One morning, Zuko woke up before Azula could shake him awake. He smiled and quickly got up, sitting up to face his sister. The boy started shaking her awake, watching her whine about wanting to sleep more.

"Azula, wake up!" Zuko shook her harder. "You always wake me up first! It's my turn!"

"Zuzu, 'lemme sleep..." Azula wrestled the thin blanket over her head.

"But today's a special day! It's the first day of November!"

"...So...?"

"Azula, it's your birthday!"

The girl suddenly shot up from the mattress, almost knocking Zuko over from the sheer force of her scrambling out of bed. She seemed _very much_ awake, rubbing the remaining amount of sleep out from her eyes with her tiny fists.

"I'm six! I'm six!" Azula danced crazily, waving her limbs around crazily.

Zuko joined in, trying to out-crazy his sister's little dance. Ursa stirred awake to the sound of soft giggling and low thumps from dancing feet. The sight she saw made her double over in laughter.

And who was to say that she wasn't allowed to join in?

*********

**CW: character death, descriptions of murder**

School went by as normally as it could. Azula's teacher had bought her a pastry for her birthday, which the girl saved for later. During their mid-day break, Azula split the pastry between her, Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, and Aang. They celebrated her birthday for the time that they were together. During lunch, Mai had made sure to give Azula a present she bought. She had gotten the girl a necklace with a flame pendant.

"Because you're like fire," Mai explained offhandedly. "You only settle down when someone dumps a glass of water on your head."

"Don't be mean to her," Zuko scolded. "It's her birthday!"

"But it's true," Mai defended herself, raising her hands up in a mock-surrender. "Admit it, Zuko. You think the same."

The boy huffed. "I do not."

Azula, on the other hand, thanked Mai for the necklace with a huge smile on her face. 

"I think Azula is like fire, too!" Ty Lee added.

Aang hummed in agreement. "She's like a flame; always flickering in the dark. Then, when other flames come by, she gets stronger, but still controlled."

"Wow, so wise, oh dear monk," Zuko laughed.

Everyone laughed alongside the two boys. 

When lunch was over, the children went back into their classes until they were dismissed for the day. Zuko and Azula met their mother outside and got inside her car. As they drove home, Ursa asked Azula what she wanted to eat for dinner. 

"Cake!" the girl exclaimed. "Lots and lots of cake! Chocolate! Actually, vanilla! Oh, how about chocolate _and_ vanilla!" 

Zuko chuckled at his sister's antics, while Ursa smiled and promised that she would do the best she could to bake a chocolate and vanilla cake. 

As their car neared their home, Ursa noticed another car parked in the driveway. Her heart started thumping frantically when she realized it was car Ozai took to work in the morning. Ursa carefully pulled up into the driveway and told her children to leave their backpacks in the car.

Without a word, Zuko and Azula followed their mother's orders. The three quickly locked the car and went to the front door. Ursa's hands shook as she tried to put the key into the lock. Once she got the door open, she ushered her children into the house before quickly closing and locking the door behind her. The three of them barely made it ten steps into their own home before they froze. 

Ozai was home early that day. He sat on the living room couch, hands folded in a solemn manner. His eyes traveled up to Ursa; a look of anger flashed on his face. 

"Zuko, Azula, go to your rooms," Ursa whispered.

"No," Ozai interrupted, getting up from the couch, "Let them stay. They should hear what I have to say."

Ursa stood her ground, but shakily pulled her children behind her. Zuko quickly held onto Azula's hand comfortingly, letting her know that he was still there. 

When Ozai was a mere meter away from Ursa, he pulled out a small packet from his pocket. Ursa paled when she realized what he was holding.

_Her birth control packet, already half-used. But how did he find it?_

Ursa blanked when she realized that Ozai must have been in her room. In the closet. In the hiding spot under the pillows, where she kept her birth control hidden.

Ozai held the packet up to Ursa's face, sneering, "Do you want to tell me what this is?"

Ursa lost her voice at that moment. She took a step back, flinching when Ozai took two steps forward.

"When I ask you a question," Ozai said in a low, sinister voice, "You answer it the first time. Do I have to repeat myself?"

Ursa shook her head, still backing up.

Ozai kept walking toward his wife. "Then what in the _damn hell_ am I holding in my hand, _Ursa_?"

"I-It..." Ursa stuttered. She felt her back hit a wall behind her, panic settling in.

Zuko slowly moved away from his mother, dragging his sister along. They hid behind the couch, cowering in fear of what would happen next.

Ozai stopped mere inches away from Ursa, locking his eyes into hers. "Answer me _now_."

"B-Birth c-c-control..." Ursa felt tears welling in her eyes.

Ozai slammed a hand against the wall, right near Ursa's face. The woman screamed in fear, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

" _Why?!_ " Ozai yelled. He grabbed a hold of Ursa's hair, pulling at it harshly.

Ursa cried out in pain, reaching up to placate Ozai's grip on her hair. In the background, she could hear Zuko trying to shush someone--most likely Azula.

Ozai pulled harder, slapping Ursa across her face. " _I asked you WHY?!"_

Ursa whimpered in pain, closing her eyes in fear. "I... I-I do-don't... want m-more k-kids... please?" She didn't know why she said 'please', but maybe it would make her husband less angry.

Suddenly the grip on her hair had let go. Ursa slowly opened her eyes, watching as Ozai backed away a couple of steps, looking at the packet he had dropped on the ground. Ursa tried to control her breathing, still shaking from fear. Had she really gotten off that easy?

Ursa looked behind Ozai's form, noticing her children behind the couch. Scared. Helpless. She secretly gestured for them to go upstairs, only for Zuko to shake his head in defiance. Azula clung to her brother, silently crying. 

_Please don't cry_ , Ursa wished. _Please go hide._

The mother was pulled out of her thoughts when a hand wrapped around her neck, suffocating her. She heard a scream, but it wasn't Zuko. 

Azula. Azula was screaming.

"Let mama go," she heard her daughter yell from across the room, "Papa, let her _go_!"

Ursa looked up to see Ozai looming over her--his hands wrapped around her throat vigorously. He was suffocating her.

" _You don't want more children?_ " Ozai growled into her ear. " _That's not for you to decide. That's for me to decide. Me!_ "

Ursa choked, clawing at her husband's hands. She felt his grip tightening, cutting off what little oxygen she barely gasped. Her vision faded slowly; the only image she saw was Ozai glaring at her, wanting her dead.

She never registered when Ozai removed his hands from her neck. Her breathing was ragged; she couldn't exhale nor inhale. Her throat hurt--a crushing feeling weighing down on her esophagus. Had Ozai crushed it? Was she dying?

Ursa felt a heavy boot kick her stomach, only subtly noticing how it never stopped. She felt a hand hold her face and slam her skull against the wall behind her. Her ears rang before silence followed. Ursa didn't know if she felt pain from blood (she hoped it wasn't blood) or from the way Ozai gripped at her hair again. He threw her to the ground, kicking her ribs repeatedly. 

With the last bit of energy left in Ursa's body, she looked up towards the couch. The last thing she saw was a blurry image of Zuko running towards her.

She smiled. At her son, who was running toward her. At her daughter, who appeared to be crying loudly behind the couch. At herself, for she was dying.

She was dying. She should be scared, but she felt relieved.

When the world around her faded, Ursa swore she saw a tiny light above her. It was small. It could have just been a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 

But she kept smiling.

Because she knew.

_Finally, I am free._

*********

**CW: descriptions of manipulation and child abuse, description of witnessing death**

Zuko ran towards his mother. She stopped screaming a while ago, but his father _never stopped kicking her._ The amount of vile curses he screamed nearly scarred the boy. Most of the curses he had never heard of.

_But papa won't stop hurting mama._

The boy saw his mother smile. He knew she was smiling at him, but her smile seemed so distant. So free. _So genuine._

Zuko loved his mother's smile. It was the brightest, most gentle thing in the world. 

But there wasn't supposed to be blood coming out of her mouth. Why couldn't his father stop kicking her?

Zuko got in front of his mother's body, pushing away his father's leg. He knew he was crying, and he knew crying would make his father angrier. He remembered shouting at the man, telling him to stop. Telling him that it wasn't his mother's fault. Telling him that it was _his own_ fault.

_Because everything was always Zuko's fault._

Zuko screaming in horror when his father pushed him out of the way, instead going in to step on his mother's head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Then stopped.

Zuko sobbed as his father stepped away from his mother--laying still on the floor. He watched as the man removed his shoes (now painted red, but Zuko didn't want to think about what the red part was) and quietly walked upstairs. Zuko fell to his knees, crawling over to his mother and try to shake her awake.

He sobbed louder when she wouldn't move. "...M-Mam-ma...?"

_Why wouldn't she move?_

"M-Mama...?" he tried again, his voice shaking. "M-Mama, please g-get up... W-Wake up... P-Please...?"

Zuko remembered shaking his mother harder. Pinching her. Tugging at her ears. Poking her face. Pulling her hair.

_Because maybe pain would wake her up._

Pain only made the carpeted floor under her body red--even more so than it already was. Zuko noticed a gash on the back of his mother's head. He looked over at the wall and noticed a red spot--the spot his father slammed his mother's head against.

Zuko knew. He knew what the red part was. It was blood.

_Why was there blood? Why was there so much?_

The boy started feeling lightheaded, not wanting to look at the blood. The blood under his mother. Near her head. 

Surely, losing a lot of blood just made people sleepy. Right? His mother was sleeping. Sure, she was sleeping on the floor, but she could still wake up, right?

_Right...?_

"M-Mama," Zuko pleaded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "M-Mama, i-if you wake u-up, I-I pro-omise that... th-that I won't b-be bad anymore. A-And I won't b-bother you w-when you have a b-bad day. A-And I-I'll help y-you cook m-more. A-And I pr-promise I won't s-scare the t-turtl-leducks away. M-Mama...? I-I'll feed them g-gently. I-I won't th-throw bread a-at them like A-Azula does. I-I promise!"

No matter how long he pleaded, and no matter how many promises he made, his mother never woke up.

Zuko felt the lump in his throat come up. Without warning, he vomited. Perhaps it was from the smell of blood. Perhaps it was from sight of blood. Perhaps it was because _his mother wouldn't wake up and it scared him._ He barely managed to turn away from his mother's body, but some of it still got on her.

 _Disgusting,_ the voice in Zuko's mind (which sounded oddly like his father) reminded him. _You're disgusting._

The boy picked up the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He knew it was his father, but he didn't dare look at him.

Because he was scared. So scared.

_Scared that the same thing could happen to him._

"This..." he heard his father's voice. "This is all _your_ fault, Zuko."

Zuko sat on his knees, still as a statue. 

"If only you weren't _born_ ," his father continued, his voice shaking, "If only you were like your _sister._ "

Zuko didn't respond.

"Your mother didn't want more kids because she was afraid they'd end up like _her._ " A pause. "Like _you._ "

Zuko looked up.

"If you weren't such a _fuck-up_." Ozai stopped in front of Zuko, kneeling down and grabbing the boy's shoulders. "Your mother would have had more children. She wouldn't have been _afraid_ of having more. But because of _you_ , she died. _You_ killed your mother, Zuko. This is all _your_ _fault_ because _you_ murdered your _mother_."

Ozai shook Zuko by his shoulders roughly, gripping onto them roughly. Zuko nearly gasped when he saw his father's eyes-- _his own father's eyes_ \--tear up. 

Zuko couldn't look away as he watched tears fall from his father's eyes.

_His father never cried._

"Y-You... made m-me..." Ozai stuttered. 

_His father never stuttered._

Zuko listened, horrified, at the next three words his father told him.

_"You killed Ursa."_

Zuko's eyes watered. His lips trembled. He didn't care that his father was going to hurt him for crying. He just wanted to _cry._

"You were _never_ good enough for your mother," his father sobbed.

_His father never sobbed._

The boy looked over at his mother's body, feeling the tears in his eyes trickle down. 

_It's not your fault,_ the little voice in his head reassured him. _It's papa's fault. Papa killed mama._

 _No,_ another voice in his mind, darker than the first, countered. _It's all your fault. You made papa kill her._

For once, Zuko didn't listen to the little voice in his head. 

As he cried, he believed the darker voice.

_It was all his fault._


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was ten when the strange man asked him what he would do to protect his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: child abuse, rape/sexual assault of a minor, manipulation and coercion

The police came, having been called by the neighbors. Officers took the family to the police station and started to question them. Ozai went first, leaving Zuko and Azula in the care of a sweet officer named Ming. She gave them water and wiped their tears away, singing to them to calm their nerves.

When Ozai came out of questioning, the officer with him was laughing along and conversing with the man. 

The officer came over to Zuko and Azula, telling them that it was their turn. Officer Ming helped the children walk toward the interrogation room, steadying them when it looked like their legs would give out. Once inside and seated in the chairs provided, the officer in charge dismissed Ming. When the woman left, he turned to the two children and sighed.

"I assume you two are Zuko and Azula?" the officer asked.

Zuko nodded, numb to the situation.

"Well, you two can call me Sergeant Jet. I just got word about your mother and I'm sorry you two had to see what you saw."

"Is papa going to jail?" Azula asked, her voice quiet and scared.

Sergeant Jet looked at her and laughed, shaking his head. "Of course not! Don't worry about it."

"Why?" Zuko asked, meeting the sergeant's eyes.

"Because your father didn't do anything."

Zuko stilled. What was happening?

"Your mother died from suicide. This case is now closed." Sergeant Jet watched for the children's reactions, becoming annoyed when they didn't appear too excited. "Aren't you two happy? You get to go home now!"

Zuko sputtered, "B-But--"

"Officer Ming!" Sergeant Jet interrupted. "Please come in here and walk the children back to their father!"

The interrogation room door opened and in walked said officer. She gently grabbed both children's hands and slowly walked them out. She could feel the boy staggering, almost wanting to drop to his knees. The officer leaned the children gently against the wall and sat down next to them.

"Are you two alright?" she asked, her voice as gentle as could be.

Upon hearing that question, both Azula and Zuko started to cry, starting off silent before hiccuping. Officer Ming looked around to make sure no one else was in the vicinity before gathering the two crying children in her arms and shushing them. She sang the way her own mother did, wanting them to quiet down.

" _P-Papa killed ma-mama..._ " she heard the girl say. 

"I know," Officer Ming nodded, brushing her hair soothingly.

Because she knew. She knew what bribery was. And she damn well knew what murder looked like. The crime scene didn't look like a suicide _at all_.

But she wasn't allowed to do anything about it. Not one single thing. 

When the two children calmed down, she slowly pulled them away from her and wiped their faces free of tears. Without a word, she gently grabbed their hands and led them toward the waiting area. She passed them to their father, watching how he reached down to carry his daughter, but disregarded his son completely. 

As she bid them farewell, she found herself wondering when she would see the two children again.

Her gut told her soon.

*********

The next day at school, Zuko and Azula found themselves being dropped off by their father. They rushed out of his car and ran into their respective classrooms, not once staying to say goodbye to the man or to each other. Neither of the children paid attention in their classes that day, but none of their teachers commented.

Because the teachers knew to give their best students a day off. _Especially when their mother died just yesterday._

When their mid-day break came, Mai and Ty Lee rushed over to Azula and Zuko. The two girls latched onto Azula, making no effort to let her go. Zuko looked around for Aang, silently waiting for him to join.

_Because Aang is comforting, and Zuko just wanted to be near a friend at that moment. A best friend. A friend that probably--most likely--understood him._

When Ty Lee noticed what he was doing, she cleared her throat.

"Aang won't be coming back anymore," she explained in a quiet voice. "He got adopted yesterday and moved away."

Zuko didn't say anything.

Instead, he walked away from the three girls, numb to the world. The eight-year-old found himself walking toward his classroom. He entered and mindlessly asked his teacher (who was shocked that the student came to her when he _should be_ outside having a good time with his friends) if he could stay in the classroom for the rest of the mid-day break.

Zuko sat in his seat, staring at his desk the whole time. When class was back in session, he looked up to face the chalkboard as his teacher went on with her lesson. Not once did he pay attention, but at least it looked like he was. During lunch, he asked the teacher if he could stay again. She sat with him, urging him to eat something.

"I don't have food with me today," he explained, his head still down. _Because mama used to pack me lunch._

The teacher sighed sadly, gently setting her apple on the boy's desk before eating her own lunch. She watched hopefully as he silently took the apple and began nibbling at the fruit. By the time he had gotten to the core, lunch had ended and students started filing back into the classroom. None of the students said anything when they saw their teacher get up from beside Zuko and grab his apple core, throwing it in the trash.

They knew not to say a word.

_Because what if they themselves lost their mothers. What kind of monsters would they be to make fun of someone who lost his mother. They knew better._

When the school day was over, Zuko began to pack his supplies (unused for the entire day) into his backpack. As he got up to exit the classroom, he felt a tap on his shoulder. The boy turned around and saw one of his classmates giving him a few loose papers.

"I took notes for you, just in case you missed anything," the boy told him.

Zuko looked at the loose papers, confused. "Why?"

"Well..." the boy stuttered, growing embarrassed, "...You kinda just zoned out and... I don't know, but I would want someone to do the same for me if I ever..."

As the boy droned on, Zuko realized then and there that everyone knew. _Everyone knew his mother was dead._

He silently grabbed the boy's notes and thanked him, rushing out of class. He stuffed the notes into his backpack and ran out of the campus. The boy spotted his father's car and hopped inside, not bothering to greet his father. When Azula came into car, he heard his father ask about her day in school, feeling his heart break when he realized his father didn't do the same for him.

They arrived home shortly. Ozai dropped his children off inside and went back to his car, telling them that he had to go back to work. Zuko watched him drive away before shutting the front door of their house and locking it. He turned and walked into the house, stopping merely ten steps in. He found Azula staring at the carpeted floor, quietly crying. Zuko looked over, suddenly feeling nauseous.

The memories of yesterday came back. 

He fell to his knees and started to sob loudly. The boy felt his sister wrap her hands around him comfortingly, all while crying into his shoulder.

The carpeted floor still had blood stains.

_Their mother's blood stains._

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse**

That evening, Ozai came home, stressed and in a bad mood. Zuko had just finished putting away both his and Azula's backpacks in Azula's room for safekeeping. As soon as he came downstairs, he was faced with his father's wrath. 

"Why isn't dinner ready?" the man asked, his voice low and angry.

Zuko gulped, thankful that he had Azula stay upstairs in her room. "I-I don't know...?"

"Whose job is to make dinner for everyone?"

"M-Mama made f-food--"

"Your _damn mother_ is _dead_." Ozai came closer to Zuko, his hands curling into fists. "So whose job is it _now_?"

Zuko's brain short-circuited, not knowing how to answer that question. Just as he was about to open his mouth, he was punched straight in his jaw. 

"You're a damn _useless_ child!" Ozai huffed and walked back out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. 

Zuko rubbed his cheek, walking back upstairs in a daze. He went to Azula's room and told her what happened, pleading with her to let him spend the night in her room.

"I-I don't wanna g-go to my r-room 'cause w-what if papa goes i-into my room a-and--"

"Zuzu, it's okay. Just sleep here."

She agreed as soon as he asked, helping him into her bed and tucking him in as best as she could. Once he was settled in, she went to the bathroom and dug through the cabinet, knowing that her mother used to keep a pain-relief cream hidden there.

"There you are!" she cheered when she found the salve. 

She ran back to her room and gently applied the cream to her brother's swollen cheek, praying to the spirits that he would get better soon. She kept the salve hidden in one of her nightstands, under all of her clothes.

Once she made sure Zuko was nearly asleep, Azula slowly walked out of her room and closed the door. The six-year-old ran downstairs and grabbed the nearest book she could find. She sat down on the living room couch, pretending to read as she waited for her father to come home.

She didn't have to wait long. 

Ozai came back with take-out in his hands. His face lit up when he saw Azula, as though he was glad to see her. She set her book down and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer for her father. The two sat in the living room, eating take-out and talking about their days. Azula listened as Ozai explained how Zhao had offered to come to their house every evening to help out.

"That's very nice of him, papa," Azula commented.

"Yeah," Ozai said, opening his beer and taking a swing from the bottle. "That man is a God-sent." 

Azula watched her father finish his beer, silently smiling to herself. If there was one thing she learned about her father in her six years of living, it was that he was a very lightweight drinker. The girl watched as her father became drunker and sleepier the more he drank. As soon as he set down his empty beer bottle, she politely told him that he looked as though he had a hard day.

"You should sleep, papa," she smiled. "Here, let me help you to your room!"

Azula guided her father upstairs and to his room, making sure he was in his bed before draping his covers over him. She then raced out of his bedroom, closed his door, and ran downstairs. The girl gathered as much uneaten take-out as she could in her arms and waddled back upstairs. She carefully set the food cartons on the floor before she opened her bedroom door, bringing them inside and closing the door behind her.

She set the food on her nightstand before gently nudging Zuko awake. "Zuzu, wake up. I brought food!"

She watched as Zuko stirred awake before propping him up with her pillows. The girl handed her brother a food carton and chopsticks, watching as he sleepily gathered the food in the box and ate. She made sure he finished all of the food she had brought, wanting him to not go hungry.

_Because who knew when he'd be able to eat again._

When Zuko was done, she took all of the food cartons and chopsticks out of her room and brought them back downstairs. Azula dumped every take-out container in the trash before going around the house to every door and window to double check the locks. Once she was sure everything was perfectly in place, she turned off the lights and ran upstairs, closing her eyes to 'make sure she didn't see any bad spirits in the dark'.

She made it back to her room and locked the door, running to her bed. She flung herself into the covers and tucked herself into Zuko.

"Zuzu, there's monsters!" she whispered, hiding her head under her duvet.

She felt Zuko turn around and securely wrap his arms around her. She flinched when she heard her brother wince, his swollen cheek having been pressed down on one of her pillows. When she felt Zuko pat her head, she looked up at him.

"It's okay," he said, his voice laced in sleep. "I'll protect you."

Azula smiled and snuggled closer to her brother.

_He truly was the best brother in the entire world._

*********

A week later, things had fallen into a new rhythm. Azula and Zuko started to pay more attention in class. They still didn't talk as often during their mid-day breaks and lunch, but Zuko made it a point to stay by and sit with his friends more often than not. He found himself in the teacher's classroom less and less, which made his teacher a little relieved. 

At home, Zuko would spend an hour on homework before cooking dinner. He learned a few dishes from watching and helping his mother cook. A few days of getting beat black and blue by Ozai for not having dinner ready prompted Zuko to make sure there was food on the table for his father every evening.

Azula always tried to help, but Zuko would shoo her out every time.

"You'll burn yourself!" he would say.

"But you never burn yourself!" she would counter. 

"That's because I'm older than you! Now go do your homework!"

When evening came, Zhao came along. After dinner was served, Zuko would sit on the couch with Azula as the two men had a beer. The last time Zuko went upstairs when the grown-ups started to drink, his father had dragged him back downstairs by his ankles and whipped him. As soon as Ozai was drunk enough, he would grab Zuko and throw him on the ground, beating him harshly.

That was another thing that had changed. Ozai didn't care if Zhao was there when he beat Zuko. He seemed too angry and frustrated to care.

And Zhao never stepped in. The man only sat on the couch, watching what was happening without saying a single word. Sometimes he would hold Azula close to him, making her sit on his lap as he continued to watch what was happening. 

Each time the boy saw that, the little voice in his head told him that it was wrong. That what Uncle Zhao was doing was wrong.

But the dark voice in his mind overpowered the little voice. The dark voice told him that he deserved every beating that happened. It told him that no one would help him because everything was his fault in the first place.

When Ozai would stop his beating, either because he got too tired or had passed out, Zuko would quietly grab Azula and head upstairs. He would make sure she was in bed before asking if he could stay.

She always said yes, and always told Zuko that he didn't have to ever ask.

Zuko would spend the rest of the night finishing his homework before crawling into Azula's bed. In the morning, he would do the dishes from last night and get ready for school, waking Azula up in the process. He would then wake up his father, deal with his wrath and hangover, and ask to be dropped off at school. As his father got ready for work, the boy made sure his sister was ready for school and made her breakfast.

When the two were dropped off at school, they would go to their classes and start their days over again. No student ever commented on the bruises that painted Zuko's skin, nor would they mention the eye-bags under the eight-year-old's eyes. A few teachers had tried to question the boy, wanting to know if there was anything going on at home. They stopped asking a few days later, realizing that the boy would never tell them.

Mai and Ty Lee started to be more gentle around the two siblings during their playtime. Mai was less sarcastic, occasionally offering Zuko a soft hug throughout the day. Ty Lee would coddle Azula a lot, but tone down her hyperness around the girl. Sometimes Azula asked Ty Lee to stop walking on egg shells around her, but the six-year-old more or less appreciated the second-grader's efforts.

As for Zuko, he found himself becoming more and more attached to Mai. The way she offered him a snack from her lunch box (he still couldn't find time to pack lunch for him and Azula), or even boop his nose in pure boredom, made him feel a little more loved than before.

He'd never admit it.

But even Zuko could tell that his heart beat a little faster when Mai was near him. 

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse**

Two years passed. Zuko was now ten, and Azula was eight. The two had just about finished their school years. Zuko, now in fifth grade, waited for his teacher to end his end-of-the-year announcements.

"Now, tomorrow will be your last day at school," the teacher droned on, "Tomorrow, you'll get your final report cards. Make sure to show them to your parents. You all did really well this year."

Zuko sighed when his teacher finished. He had been a little nervous about his report card. This year hadn't been too easy on him. He tried his best, but there were some subjects that he couldn't quite grasp well. When the school day ended, he met up with Mai before walking over to Ty Lee and Azula.

As the two fifth graders walked, Zuko made it a point to secretly steal glances at the girl next to him.

For two years now, his feelings grew. He became more and more attached to Mai, wanting to spend his time with her. 

Sure, Azula teased him when they got home, but he could care less.

Mai was awesome. So what if he had a ~~huge~~ small crush on her?

As soon as Zuko saw Azula, he bid his farewell to Mai and grabbed his sister's hand. They both raced out of the campus, getting into their father's car before he got annoyed. Their evening and night repeated, with Zuko gaining a new bruise or two and asking Azula if he could spend the night at her room. 

When Zuko woke up the next morning, he felt terrible. He wasn't sick per say. He just woke up in a bad mood.

A _very_ bad mood. 

The boy woke Azula up and went to go get ready for school. Upon going to his father's room to wake him up, Zuko almost regretted coming into said man's room. As soon as he entered, Ozai grabbed Zuko by his hair and started belting him. The boy could barely make out the reason; the man seemed to be blaming him for his hangover. Zuko managed to wring himself out of his father's grasp and ran out of the room.

He didn't bother eating breakfast that day.

The boy waited for Azula to come downstairs and served her food. He made sure she ate before Ozai came downstairs, rushing her when she would slow down. More than once had his sister gotten annoyed at him, but complied regardless.

Once they were at school, Zuko ran to his classroom. Azula watched her brother run, a little sadden at the fact that he didn't bid her goodbye. 

For the rest of the day, Zuko had been on edge. Ty Lee had accidentally bumped into him during their mid-day break, causing the boy to hiss at his injuries from the morning. Albeit, he was a little _too harsh_ on the girl, calling her a circus freak of all things, but he quickly apologized when he saw the girls shed tears. Unfortunately... 

"For spirit's sake, Zuko," Mai had bitten back, "It was an _accident_! You don't have to be a piss-baby about it!" 

Zuko cowered away, feeling guilty. He didn't expect Mai to get mad at him, but then again, he deserved it.

When the students were called back into their classes, Zuko couldn't help but zone out. He was called on more than once in class, but didn't pay attention to the questions. It got to the point that his teacher sent him to stand outside of the classroom until lunch began. 

"On the last day of the school year?!" his teacher reprimanded. "I expect better from you, Zuko. You of _all my students_ should know better."

During lunch, Zuko's stomach growled uncontrollably. He regretted his decision to skip breakfast. Despite all of the loud growling, Mai didn't once give him a snack. Zuko sighed, realizing that she was still mad at him. 

_He shouldn't have yelled at Ty Lee._

When the last hour of the school day came, report cards were passed around. Zuko prayed for his grades to be in high-standing. All A's and nothing less. When his teacher came around with his report card, he was congratulated with a smile. 

So that meant his grades were great, right?

Zuko held in his breath as he glanced at his report card, hoping for the best. Everything was an A. Even his science grade, and he struggled with science! Zuko smiled as he saw his grades until he saw one that wasn't an A.

_Math. B._

Zuko's heart stopped. Of course he failed at math.

He was so, _so stupid._

His father would most _definitely_ kill him. 

The school day soon ended. Zuko found himself walking out of the campus, tightly clutching his report card as nerves ate him alive. When he saw his father, he crumbled it and hid it behind his back, making it seem as if he was holding nothing. As soon as Azula came to the car, the three headed home.

That day, Zuko made sure to prepare an extravagant dinner. He used a computer to print out a recipe he found. Maybe if he made a good dinner, his father won't hurt him too bad.

Maybe he could overlook his mistakes and shortcomings.

When Azula asked if she could help, Zuko absentmindedly told her to leave. He didn't want to concern her. Never.

As soon as Zuko finished setting up the table, he heard his father's car pull up in the driveway. 

When Ozai came home (bringing Zhao with him), the first thing he did was ask for his children's report cards.

Azula handed hers over with a smile. As expected, she had all A's. Ozai praised her, telling her how proud he was of her. When he turned to Zuko, his smile faltered. The boy sighed as he grabbed the crinkled paper on the dining table, unraveling it and handing it over to his father. He wrung his hands tensely, fidgeting in his spot. He visibly flinched when his father spoke up.

"You _stupid_ fuck-up," Ozai sneered. "You have a B in mathematics?! The _least_ you could do is count on your fingers to do some _basic_ _calculations_!"

Zuko said nothing as he felt himself being dragged to the living room and whipped. He tried not to scream as the welts dug into the ones he got in the morning. When his father was finished, he was ordered to go upstairs.

_No dinner would be given to him that night._

The boy limped upstairs and went to his bedroom. He felt tears prick his eyes, but he willed himself not to cry.

_He didn't deserve to cry._

Instead, he sat on his mattress, angry at the world.

_Why, of all the days in the year, was today a bad day?_

*********

Azula silently sat at the dinner table, hearing the two men talk about work in the living room. Dinner had been eaten an hour ago, but she couldn't find it in her to move. She was still shaken a bit by what happened to Zuko. She quietly slipped away, heading upstairs to Zuko's room. 

Once she found him, she grabbed his hand and guided them back to her bedroom. Azula closed her bedroom door and led her brother deeper into her room.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, holding his hands in hers comfortingly.

Zuko sighed, seeming irritated. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

Zuko nodded.

Azula sighed, knowing that Zuko wanted her to change the topic. Perhaps she could talk about school? Perhaps she could mention Ty Lee and how the girl asked if she could talk to Zuko. To tell him that she was sorry about bumping into him. To ask for his forgiveness, because she should have been more careful when she knew that he was hurting.

_"I should have been more careful," Ty Lee told Azula as they were heading back to class. "Zuko really looked like he was in pain and--"_

_"Ty Lee, it's okay," Azula reassured her. "He shouldn't have yelled at you though. You're not a circus freak."_

_"Circus freak is a compliment!"_

_"Didn't sound like it..."_

_The two girls laughed, ready to part way. When Azula turned to go to her classroom, she felt Ty Lee grab her arm to stop her.  
_

_"Okay, but..." Ty Lee sighed, "Can you please just talk to Zuko for me? I really, really want to apologize. I really shouldn't have bumped into him."_

_Azula smiled and nodded. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him."_

Yeah. Maybe that could put him in a better mood.

"Zuzu, do you remember what happened today at school?" she asked, trying to ease him into the conversation.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You know how you apologized to Ty Lee?"

Suddenly, it was as if a volcano exploded in his mind. His irritation spiked into irrational anger. 

Zuko ripped his hands away from Azula's and flung them in the arm furiously. "Yeah, I do! Okay?! I apologized! And I'm really, _really sorry_! Do you even know how sorry I am, Azula?!"

Azula stepped back, a little shocked. "I--"

"No, you don't!" Zuko continued, pointing at his sister accusingly. "Because you don't go through the things that I go through! Because you're papa's favorite!"

"Zuzu--"

"'Zuzu' this; 'Zuzu' that! Life is so perfect for you, isn't it, Azula?! Or what? Should I start calling you 'Lala' now?!"

"What are you saying--?"

"What am I saying?! What am I _saying?!_ I'm saying that maybe--just _maybe_ \--you could realize that I do more for you than you do for me! Maybe you could help me around the house more often rather than be in your _princess perfect world_ where everything is fine and dandy!"

"I do try to help!" Azula shouted back, losing her temper. "But every time I ask if you need help, you shoo me away like I'm just a pest to you! Maybe if you let me help you, I'd actually be able to help you! But all you do is fight back and argue with me!"

"Well maybe if you overlooked me shooing you away and just helped regardless, I wouldn't be having this _argument_ with you, _Lala!_ " 

Azula pushed Zuko away at the mockery of her name. She felt hot tears rush down her face when he huffed and stomped out of her room, slamming the door closed on the way out. Perhaps Zuko was right.

But that didn't stop Azula from sobbing uncontrollably.

_Because that was their first ever fight._

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse**

Zuko winced when the door behind him slammed a little too hard. He felt bad about the fight; he definitely didn't want to take everything out on Azula. He just had a bad day; that was no reason to direct his anger and frustration on anyone else. He sighed, deciding to go back inside her room and apologize--maybe even hug her and tell her that he didn't mean any word he just said.

Just as he turned around, Zuko heard a noise coming from down the hall. He instead turned and followed the noise, noticing how it was coming from his father's room. The door was slightly opened, allowing Zuko to peer into the room. The sight of his father made him gasp in shock. 

Ozai was on the floor, sobbing on his knees. He still clutched the belt he used on Zuko earlier that evening. The man was dressed down in comfortable clothing, but somehow looked like a mess.

The ten-year-old boy gulped and slowly pushed the bedroom door open. 

"Papa..." Zuko walked over to his father. He reached out and wrapped his arms around the man, comforting him. "Papa, don't cry."

Ozai sobbed as Zuko held him, letting go of the belt but making no move to hold the boy closer. Zuko patted his father's hair, the same way Ursa did when he cried.

" _It's all your fault,_ " Ozai whispered, tears still flowing. " _It's all your fault, Zuko._ "

"I know," Zuko whispered back.

_"It's your fault your mother is dead."_

"I'm sorry, papa."

 _"She'd still be alive if you didn't make me_ kill _her."_

Zuko's bottom lip quivered. His eyes stung with fresh tears that threatened to fall. He sniffled as Ozai grabbed Zuko's shoulders and pulled him away. 

The man looked into Zuko's eyes and asked, "Why did you make me kill her, Zuko?"

Zuko stayed silent, trying to keep his tears down. His lip quivered harder when Ozai started shaking him.

" _Why_ , Zuko?" Ozai cried. "Why did you make me kill your mother, _Zuko_?"

The boy shook his head, muttering, "D-Dunno, papa..."

" _Why don't you know?!_ " Ozai yelled, pushing the boy to the ground.

The tears in Zuko's eyes fell fast. Sobs ripped out of his throat with no sign of stopping. When Ozai picked up the belt on the floor and stood up, Zuko covered his face, sobbing louder. Expecting to be whipped for the second time that night-- _the third time that entire day--_ Zuko sobbed out a mantra of 'I'm sorry''s and 'Papa, please no''s. 

Instead he heard a grave voice tell him, " _Get out._ " 

Zuko looked up, lowering his hands from his face. His father stood towering over him, but a solemn look played on his face.

"Get out of my sight, Zuko."

Without a word, Zuko quickly crawled to his feet and ran out of the room. He let his feet take him to Azula's door, using the wall to guide him. The boy tripped somewhere down the hallway, but scrambled to his feet and quickly opened the door. As soon as he was inside the room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, sliding down.

Safe.

He was safe.

Away from his father.

_Because papa looked different, and that scared him. Papa could hurt him._

_Just like he hurt mama._

"What are you doing?" a voice sneered.

Zuko looked up and saw his sister glare at him. She ripped the sheets on her bed off of herself and climbed out, stomping over to her brother.

Zuko gulped, trying to steady his voice. Tears still raced down his face as he pleaded, "A-Azula, m-may I--"

"For spirit's sake," Azula interrupted, "Can you just say what you have to say _without_ _stuttering_?!"

"M-May I p-pleas--"

" _Without_ stuttering!"

"--P-Please stay here t-tonight?"

Zuko folded his hands in a pleading manner, looking up at Azula with desperation. He watched her eyes as they glared at him mercilessly.

"No." Azula turned away, walking back towards her bed.

"P-Please!" Zuko crawled toward Azula on his hands and knees as fast as he could. He grabbed her pajama leg, halting her. "A-Azula, I-I'm sorry! P-Please! I-I'm scared a-and--"

"Zuko, _no_!" Azula swung her leg away from Zuko's grip, freeing herself. She pointed to the door, still glaring. "Get _out_! I said _no_!"

"A-Azula, I--"

"Get. _Out!_ "

Zuko sniffled, still begging with his eyes. When Azula's resolve wouldn't falter, he quietly got up from the floor. With his head down, he staggered towards the bedroom door, opening it and going out into the hallway. Before he could turn, he heard the door slam shut behind him and the lock clicking from within.

The ten-year-old shakily sighed, reaching up to roughly wipe away his tears and snot with the back of his hand. Zuko quietly sat down in the hallway, leaning against Azula's bedroom door, distantly looking up at the ceiling. 

Minutes must have passed--perhaps even hours. Zuko just about nodded off to sleep when he heard footsteps come up the staircase. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared toward the stairs. Seconds later, he saw Zhao appear, looking around the hallway. The man's eyes landed on the boy, smiling at him. Zhao walked up, sitting down next to him. 

"Hello, Zuko," the man greeted softly.

Zuko yawned. "Hello, Uncle Zhao."

"What are you doing in the hallway, my boy?" 

When Zuko remained silent, eyes still fixed on Zhao, the man cleared his throat.

"Don't wanna talk about it, huh?" Zhao laughed.

Zuko shook his head. "I don't feel like talking."

Zhao nodded, seemingly understanding. Zuko took his eyes off of the man and fixed them back on the ceiling. He stared into the darkness quietly, listening to the breathing of the man next to him. It felt nice. Uncle Zhao was always nice.

_Uncle Zhao never hit him._

As Zuko stared at the ceiling above, he heard Zhao clear his throat again. 

"You know, Zuko," he began, "I always see you. In the hallway, I mean."

Zuko turned his head towards the man, watching as Zhao turned to look at him as well.

"I see you sitting here by the door. I assume this is someone's bedroom?"

Zuko nodded.

Zhao hummed. "Is it, perhaps, Azula's bedroom?"

Zuko nodded again.

Zhao smiled. "I see. So you're sitting here. Are you making sure no one comes inside to disturb your sister? Are you protecting her?"

**CW: rape/sexual assault of a minor**

When Zuko remained quiet, Zhao scooted closer to the boy. He put his hand on the ten-year-old's thigh, gently massaging it. Zuko squirmed in his touch, feeling very much uncomfortable.

Zhao smirked.

"You're a good brother, Zuko," Zhao whispered, leaning closer toward the boy.

Zuko leaned away, still trying to shuffle away from the man.

"Tell me: would you do anything for your sister?"

Zuko's eyes widened, almost offended. In a quiet voice, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Zhao shrugged, relaxing back. He took his hand off of Zuko's thigh and sighed, "Most siblings don't protect their siblings from everything."

Zuko stared at the man, confused. "But... But I'd do my best to protect Azula..."

"Yes, but would you do _anything_ to protect your sister?"

"I don't... I don't understand, Uncle Zhao..."

Zhao leaned toward the boy, whispering into his ear, " _Just answer the question, boy. Would you do anything to protect your sister?_ "

Zuko squirmed, trying to lean away from the man. He felt a hand rest against his thigh, massaging it roughly. As uncomfortable as Zuko felt, he concentrated on the question he was asked. 

"U-Um..." Zuko stuttered, not knowing why he felt so uncomfortable. "I-I'd do anything..."

" _I can't hear you_ ," the voice in his ear growled.

Zuko gulped, clearing his throat.

"I-I said I-I'd do a-anything," he said a little louder.

" _Anything?_ "

Zuko nodded, still squirming.

Suddenly, Zhao moved away and took his hand off of Zuko's thigh. The man straightened up and got up from the floor, dusting himself off. He lowered a hand down to Zuko, wanting the boy to take his hand.

"How about I get you to bed, Zuko?" Zhao smiled down at the ten-year old.

Zuko shook his head. "I'm fine here. Thank you."

"Why don't you just show me to your room then?"

"I can just stay here. It's okay, Uncle Zhao."

"I _insist_ , Zuko."

Zuko saw Zhao's smile become a little curt. He gulped and shakily took the man's hand, not wanting to upset him. The boy got up from the floor and led him down the hallway, stopped by his bedroom door.

"Shall we go in?" Zhao asked.

Zuko hesitantly walked into his room, feeling embarrassed when he saw the man look around. With just a mattress and a barely filled closet, Zuko wanted to apologize for the sight.

"It's so..." Zhao paused, looking around with a smile, "... _quaint_."

Zuko's eyes watered, feeling too embarrassed. "I'm sorry if it's not to your liking..."

"No, no!" Zhao laughed, guiding the boy towards the mattress. "It's perfect. Quaint is good. Good for me."

Zuko wiped at his eyes, watching as Zhao let go of his hand and went towards the door. He watched as the man closed the door and walked back to him. He felt himself be guided down to the mattress, feeling the thin material dip as he sat down. Zhao settled down on his knees in front of the boy, reaching up to grab his face in his hands. Zuko felt the baby fat on his cheeks being squished, relaxing at the small gesture.

"I notice you, Zuko," Zhao whispered, caressing the boy's face, "I notice every bit of you."

The boy remained silent, staring up at the man. 

"I notice how mean everyone is to you, my boy," Zhao continued, "No one appreciates you. _Not like I do._ "

Zuko sat still, not knowing how to react. He watched as Zhao leaned forward, planting a small kiss on his forehead.

"I love you, Zuko," Zhao whispered. "And I'd do anything to have you. _Anything._ "

Zuko's eyes widened when he felt the man's lips on his, kissing him. The hands on his face moved down toward his thighs, massaging them and slowly parting them. When he felt Zhao's hand reach under his shirt, Zuko started to struggle.

"U-Uncle Zhao!" Zuko broke the kiss, pushing the man's face away from his. "U-Uncle Zhao, s-stop!"

As kind as Zhao's face was before he entered the room, it morphed into disgruntled anger. Zuko yelped when the man grabbed him and threw him down on his back. The boy turned onto his stomach and tried to crawl away, only to be yanked back by his foot. Zhao didn't even try to turn him back around; instead, he started pulling Zuko's clothes off. The boy cried when his shirt was practically ripped off of him, being reduced to useless rags. He tried crawling away again when he felt his shorts and underwear come down.

" _Stay put_ ," Zhao growled, yanking the clothes off of the boy and throwing them on the floor. 

Zuko cried harder when he felt his hands being pinned against his back. He squirmed as Zhao reached down and roughly kissed the boy along his shoulders. He tried to scream for help--for Azula (or even _his father_ )--when he felt the man's fingers enter his mouth. The digits swirled around his tongue, nearly gagging him when they hit the back of his throat.

" _Suck_ ," the man ordered.

Zuko tried to shake his head, trying to push the fingers out of his mouth. When Zhao pushed his fingers deeper in the boy's mouth, Zuko gagged and bit down. The fingers shot out of his mouth as he heard the man above him hiss in pain. 

"You little whore," Zhao hissed, smacking Zuko's ass, causing the boy to yelp. "You'll regret that. I'll make sure of it."

Zuko felt his legs forcibly being spread before a finger prodded his hole. He screamed in pain when it entered him--tearing him.

"U-Uncle Zhao, no!" Zuko cried, screaming once more when he felt a second finger enter right after the first.

" _Shut up, boy_ ," the man above him growled, stretching the boy as much as he could before entering a third finger.

Zhao remained deaf to the screams coming from the boy, instead making quick work to prep him. He watched as blood coated his fingers and tsked. He removed his fingers and pulled out his dick from his pants, stroking it and coating it with the blood on his fingers. The man settled himself between the boy's legs and thrust into him.

Zuko screamed into the mattress, going still when he felt the member enter him. He sobbed when Zhao started moving, starting off slow and speeding up. The boy screamed for someone-- _anyone_ \--to come help him. He felt a hand smack his ass, wincing and crying out from the pain. He nearly passed out from the pain until he felt something shoot into him. He felt the member leave his body, shivering from the pain.

Zuko sobbed as he was flipped onto his back, his hands pinned above his head. Zhao smirked and wrapped his hands around the boy's penis, stroking it gently. Zuko squirmed, crying to be let go. 

"But you like this, Zuko," Zhao mocked, "Look how hard you are."

The boy struggled, feeling a weird sensation in his stomach. He whined when Zhao leaned over and kissed him, biting his lips. The man kissed his tears before diving into the boy's neck, sucking on the skin there. Zuko whimpered when he felt teeth dig into him.

Zhao leaned back, letting go of Zuko's penis. He stroked his own and spread Zuko's legs once more, thrusting in. The man covered Zuko's mouth and nose with his hand, shushing him as he quickly thrust in and out of the boy. Tears spilled out of his eyes as he desperately tried to scream, _desperately tried to breathe_. His vision started fading before the hand was removed from his face. Zuko felt something hot spill into him again, flinching from the pain.

" _That's it_ ," the man moaned, riding out his orgasm, " _Such a good cumslut. Just like that_."

Zuko wept silently as Zhao pulled out. The man wrapped his hand around Zuko's penis and started stroking. The boy laid there, shuddering at the touch.

"I'll let you cum, too. Don't worry." Zhao smirked and quickened his pace.

_It hurt._

_It hurt so bad._

But there was a funny feeling in Zuko's stomach that made him want to squirm. He let out a shaky breath and whined.

"Feel that? You like that, don't you?" Zhao laughed. " _Such a good little whore._ "

The more Zhao continued, the more intense the feeling in Zuko's stomach got. 

"F-Feels weird..." the boy moaned. "U-Uncle Zhao...! S-Stop!"

The man paid no heed to the ten-year-old under him. He watched as the child kept squirming before arching his back. A whimper-ish moan escaped the boy before he fell back on the mattress. The man above him cooed at the boy's dry orgasm.

_Because he was still so young. So perfect._

Zhao let go of the boy's hands, sitting back to admire what he had done.

_Beautiful. Zuko was beautiful._

He raised the boy's legs in the air and fingered the boy's hole, watching blood and semen drip onto his finger. Zhao smirked, proud of himself.

_Zuko was finally his. His and only his._

Zhao picked Zuko up and moved him to one side of the mattress. He laid down next to the boy, securely putting his arms around him. He watched as the boy tried to get away from his grasp before settling down, too weak to do anything. He listened to every little sniffle and whimper--watched every little tear drop fall--and smirked to himself.

_Mine._

*********

Azula laid in bed, feeling guilty. She hadn't meant to yell at Zuko. The argument they had just set her off and put her in a bad mood. She went to bed that night feeling frustrated and angry. Maybe a little heartbroken.

Then Zuko came running into her room with tears flowing and heavy sobs. He asked her--no, _begged her_ \--to let him stay that night. Whatever the reason was, he came to her for help.

And she didn't help him.

Azula cried, remembering how badly Zuko begged her. She cried harder when she remembered the way she told him to get out. She didn't mean to do that. She wasn't able to control her emotions and make a rational decision at the time and...

... _And papa would be so disappointed._

Azula didn't know if Zuko went back to his bedroom. She laid awake that night until she heard noises from outside her bedroom door. She sat up, panicking until she recalled that she closed and locked her door.

_Right in Zuko's face._

Azula shook that thought out of her mind and quietly tiptoed towards the door, pressing her ear against it. She gasped when she realized it was Zuko. He was sitting in the hallway. But who was he talking to?

Then she heard Zhao's voice. Azula listened to their conversation, trying to pick up on any tone she could.

And then they left. 

The eight-year-old listened to the sounds of their footprints. She quietly unlocked her bedroom door and stepped into the hallway, heading straight toward Zuko's bedroom. The door was closed, but she could still hear their voices.

" _I notice how mean everyone is to you, my boy_ ," she heard Zhao say.

Azula winced, guilt crawling into her gut. 

" _No one appreciates you_ ," she heard Zhao continue, " _Not like I do._ "

Azula sighed, stepping away from the door. Uncle Zhao was right; he seemed to be the only one that cared about Zuko these days. Azula felt tears prick her eyes. She wanted to tell Zuko that she was sorry.

That he was the best brother in the world. 

That she knew he didn't kill mama.

That she really, really, really loved him and cared for him.

Maybe she could do that in the morning.

Azula turned and started to walk towards her bedroom. She made up her mind: she would get up bright and early in the morning and apologize to Zuko. Just as she was halfway across the hallway, she heard screams.

Bone-chilling screams.

_Zuko._

_It was Zuko._

Azula turned around and ran towards her brother's bedroom. She had to help Zuko. He was in trouble. Her brother was in trouble.

Just as her hand reached the doorknob, a voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.

_"What are you doing awake, Azula?"_

The girl turned around and saw her father standing on the other side of the hallway. She watched as he walked towards her, all while Zuko's screams kept playing in the background.

"Papa, Zuko is in trouble," Azula explained, a little annoyed and anxious.

"He's always in trouble. Leave him be and go to bed."

"But Uncle Zhao is with him."

Ozai stopped in front of Azula, silently glaring at her. Azula kept her eyes on her father, challenging him. The man looked at his son's bedroom door, sighing as he heard the screams.

 _"U-Uncle Zhao, no!"_ Zuko screamed. 

Azula turned and tried to reach for the doorknob again, only for her hand to be caught by Ozai.

"Your Uncle Zhao is busy with Zuko, sweetie," he calmly explained.

"But--!"

"Enough. I don't want to see you near this room ever again. Let's get you to bed."

Azula wordlessly let herself get dragged away to her bedroom. She was silent as Ozai picked her up and tucked her into her bed, placing a small goodnight kiss on her forehead. When he left, he closed her bedroom door.

The girl waited for his footsteps to die down. When she heard his bedroom door close, she waited a few moments before getting out of bed. She crept up to her bedroom door and slowly opened it, poking her head out into the hallway. She could still hear her brother's screams.

The eight-year-old sat down near her door, listening. Waiting. She couldn't make out the words, but Zhao was doing something bad. He was hurting Zuko.

_He wasn't nice anymore._

Azula sat still until the screaming died down. She looked over at the digital clock on her nightstand and saw the time. 12:03 a.m. Just past midnight.

The girl stayed in her spot, her ear fixed on the sounds in the hallway. A long while later, she let out a yawn. Glancing back, she saw the time change to 1:56 a.m. She didn't know how she managed to stay in her spot for almost two hours, but her thoughts were gone when she let out another yawn.

Azula trudged back to bed, leaving her bedroom door open.

If, at any point of the night, Zuko wanted to come into her room, her door would be wide open. Just for him.

_Always._


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was eleven when his father burned half of his face for spilling untold secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: child abuse, child grooming, rape/sexual assault of a minor

Zuko somehow passed out that night--whether it was from exhaustion or pain. His night was dreamless, and he eventually found himself waking up to someone on top of him. He slowly opened his eyes to see Zhao-- _Uncle Zhao_ \--caressing him. He looked over at the small window in his room and saw a blueish hue, signalling the very start of a sunrise. The boy stayed still as he felt the man start to kiss him all over. 

_"You were so good to me last night_ ," he heard Zhao tell him, " _So good..._ "

He felt the man's teeth biting every inch of his skin--some parts gently, and others roughly. Zuko tried hard not to flinch or cry. He tried to think of something else, or even someone else. His mind landed on Azula, only making him feel worse.

They had an argument last night.

And it was all his fault.

He wondered if Azula was able to go to sleep that night. If she blamed him for the argument. If he made her cry.

 _Mama would be disappointed in you,_ he heard a dark voice in his mind tell him.

 _Siblings argue,_ the little voice countered. _It's normal for siblings to argue._

 _Sure,_ the darker voice chimed in, _but it's still all your fault, Zuko._

Zuko stayed still when he felt Zhao lean over and place a kiss on his lips.

"I'll be back tonight," the man said, seeming happy. "You're mine, Zuko. Don't forget that."

When the man got up off the mattress, the boy closed his eyes. He felt a thin blanket being placed on his body carefully. As he drifted back off to sleep, he heard the bedroom door open and close.

Zhao was gone.

As Zuko slept, he felt a black void settling into his mind. It ate at him until he opened his eyes again. When he looked over at the window again, he saw that the sun had risen quite a lot. Bright rays entered his room unapologetically. It hurt his eyes, but he rubbed them awake. The boy sighed and started to sit up, only to fall back on the mattress with a yelp.

It hurt. Pain shot up his spine, making him whimper. He tried not to scream as he steadied his breathing. When the pain subdued, he rolled over and slowly started crawling toward his bedroom door. With each moment he made, silent cries spilled out of his mouth.

Zuko made it to his door and gripped the doorknob tightly, using it to get himself up off the ground. His breathing became harbored as he tried to straighten his back. As tall as he could stand, Zuko realized he was naked. Memories from last night started to flood his mind. He wanted to go back to bed, hiding under his blanket. He didn't even know what had happened; all he knew was that it hurt, and he never wanted it to hurt again.

The ten-year-old sniffled as he went to his closet, using the wall to support himself from falling. He grabbed a pair of loose clothes and a towel, realizing that he probably needed a shower. The boy limped towards his bedroom door and slowly swung it open, peering into the hallway to make sure no one was there. With a small sigh, he limped towards the bathroom, locking the door and hopping into the shower. 

He set his clothes and towel down on the floor before drawing the curtain and turning the knob. Warm water rained down from the shower head. Normally he would only be allowed to use cold water, but he couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences of not doing so. Zuko let the warmth wash over him, closing his eyes as he started to relax. Maybe last night was just a nightmare. Maybe he was hurting because Ozai beat him a little too harshly. 

Maybe Uncle Zhao didn't even come to his room last night.

When he opened his eyes, he looked down at the floor beneath him. He stilled when he realized the water under him was a bit pinkish. A horrid thought crossed his mind.

He reached between his legs and felt something sticky and rough. He rubbed at the spot, hissing softly at the pain it caused. When he brought his hand up, he saw it coated red.

Blood.

Was it normal to bleed down there? 

Zuko was scared. His legs started to shake. Why was there blood? Was it from last night? 

His legs gave in and he fell to the floor of the shower. He felt his stomach drop. He didn't like blood. Blood was scary. Blood meant injuries--injuries that could reopen.

_"I'll be back tonight."_

Zuko laid on the shower floor, wanting it to swallow him whole. He didn't realize when he started sobbing. All he knew was that the water turned cold at some point, and it only made him hurt more. 

*********

Azula woke up to the sun shining through her curtains. She sat up and looked around her room, noting that Zuko didn't come by at any point last night. She sighed sadly, still feeling guilty over the events from last night.

Maybe she should have just let Zuko stay in her room that night. Maybe she shouldn't have sent him out into the hallway.

_He looked so scared..._

Azula remembered what she wanted to do and quickly got out of bed. The time on her clock said 10:03 a.m. Her father must have already been at work, which meant only her and Zuko were at home.

And hopefully Uncle Zhao had left?

Azula huffed at the thought of that man. She couldn't believe she ever thought he was nice. She could still hear Zuko's screams from last night--even in a nightmare she had while she slept. She could have helped him; she _should_ have helped her brother.

His words from their argument last night echoed in her mind: _"Because you don't go through the things that I go through! Because you're papa's favorite!"_

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, before running out of her room. She saw that Zuko's bedroom door had been swung open, a contrast from it being closed last night. Azula peered inside and noticed that her brother wasn't there. His clothes were on the floor and his mattress was disarrayed. The girl stepped into his room cautiously; a pit formed in her stomach. She came closer to the mattress and slowly lifted the blanket away from it.

She gasped.

Blood.

And another stain?

Azula wrinkled her nose in disgust, not knowing what it was but not curious enough to touch it. Sure, the mattress was dirty anyway; some blood had already dried into it from years of abuse. But what was that stain? Had her brother peed himself?

Azula carefully folded the blanket, trying to take her mind off of the stain. She settled it on the mattress when she was done, keeping in mind to avoid the freshly dried bloodstain. She then picked up his clothes--the ones discarded on the floor--and examined them. The shirt had been ripped to rags, but the underwear and shorts were fine. She made quick work to dispose of the shirt and carry the other clothing to the laundry room downstairs.

Maybe she could help Zuko with the laundry today. He'd like that, right?

Azula went back upstairs and started searching for her brother. She pressed her ear against each closed door until she heard the shower in the bathroom running. With nothing else to do, Azula sat down on the floor near the bathroom, waiting for her brother to come outside. A few minutes passed before she saw him again. Her breathing stilled in worry when she saw him limping out of the bathroom, only to stop in his place when he saw her.

The eight-year-old got up from the ground and dusted herself off. She cleared her throat, feeling awkward now that she was in front of Zuko.

"So, um," she fidgeted in her spot, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to say bad things to you, and I didn't mean to get into an argument either. Could you please forgive me...?"

She stared at Zuko, waiting for his reaction. Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. She had been practicing her apology before she went to sleep. She even rehearsed while she was waiting in the hallway. 

No reaction came. 

All she got out of him was a numbly said, "Okay."

She watched as Zuko limped past her, not once looking back. Sure, she was forgiven, but shouldn't her brother have said more?

"T-That's all you're going to say?" she stuttered, confused at his reaction.

When Zuko ignored her, continuing to limp back to his room, Azula ran up from behind him and grabbed his shoulder. She noted how he flinched from her, wondering if he had hurt his shoulder at some point.

Or was he scared of her?

"Zuzu, are you okay?" she whispered, afraid that speaking loudly would somehow hurt him.

Zuko tried to keep walking. "Let me go, Azula."

"Are you hurt?"

"I said let me go."

"Are you mad at me--?"

"I SAID LET ME GO!" Zuko violently shrugged Azula's hand away, glaring at her.

Azula backed away. At first she was scared. Had she made her brother angrier than before? Was this going to turn into another argument? Should she have given him space?

But then the fear morphed into anger.

She apologized. She asked for forgiveness. She tried to ask if Zuko was okay. She didn't _ask_ to be in an argument. Nor did she _ask_ to be yelled at in the morning.

In fact, the argument from last night wasn't just one sided. There were two people involved: Azula and Zuko. 

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, taking a step forward.

She watched as he took a step back, realizing that fear had settled itself into his head. She scoffed.

"I'm not papa, Zuko," she began, "I'm not going to _hit you._ "

Azula glared at her brother, watching him limping backwards from her. She challenged him, stepping toward him in wide strides until he passed his room and backed into a wall. She felt bad when he hissed in pain, but the anger in her bubbled violently.

And eventually, she exploded. "I apologized to you over an argument that _you_ started last night, and all I get is an 'okay'?! Last time I checked, you were in that argument, too! _You_ should be apologizing to _me_!"

She saw the boy's bottom lip quiver, noting how he was close to tears. He even started to wring his hands--a nervous tick that he picked up from their mother.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. In the moment, all she wanted was...

"All I want is an apology back! You can't just expect me to ask for forgiveness and then go on your merry way! Do you know how guilty I felt last night?! Do you know how hard it was for me to sleep last night?! The entire night, all I heard were your _pathetic screaming!_ All night long, Zuko! If you don't want to apologize for the argument, the _very least_ you could do is say that you're sorry for keeping everyone awake all night! Take responsibility for once! You seriously are the worst brother ever! Everything is always your fault!"

_No. This was wrong. This was all wrong._

Azula hadn't meant anything she said. She didn't even know where the words had come from. Her mouth ran faster than she could control.

She didn't mean anything.

She didn't need an apology.

The screaming didn't keep her awake all night.

Zuko was the best--most responsible--brother in the world. 

When the anger died down, all that was left was a guilty conscience. Azula watched as her brother sunk to the floor, his hands shielding his face. He was scared. She scared him. She didn't mean to take out her anger on him. 

She gulped, trying to reach out to her brother. "...Zuzu, I--"

_"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"_

Azula stilled, retracting her hand away. She listened to the broken mantra, slowly stepping away from her brother. He sounded like a broken record, repeating the same thing over and over again in a teary, fearful voice.

As much as Azula wanted to help him--to reach out to him, to hold him, to protect him from anything and everything--she resisted. Instead, that anger from before came back for a different reason.

Why couldn't Zuko stand up for himself?

Why was he so helpless?

Azula looked at Zuko and noted how her guilt morphed into disgust. All she wanted was for her brother to yell at her like he had last night, but all he did was apologize.

Zuko always apologized. 

He was weak.

Azula walked away.

She was still _so mad_.

*********

**CW: rape/sexual assault of a minor, child grooming**

From that night onward, Zhao always came by in the evening. He always stayed for dinner, and waited for Zuko to go to his room. When everyone else left for bed, he would go into the boy's room and close the door behind him. He quickly learned that the bedroom door had a broken lock, which he was very much grateful for.

That meant Zuko could never lock him out. 

It made Zhao happy.

Every night, he would have the boy do his bidding. Each passing night, he noticed how less the boy struggled. He noticed how less the boy cried out for help. It made Zhao happier. 

Zuko was breaking, little by little. Not that Zhao cared. In fact, if the boy broke enough, it would be easier to built him back up--to mold him into a perfect little toy.

But the boy was still a long way from being completely broken. Even now, as Zhao watched Zuko suck his dick, the man couldn't help but notice the small mistakes being made. How the boy never looked up at him, even when instructed to multiple times. How the boy didn't go deep enough. How the boy didn't go fast enough.

Zhao clicked his tongue and grabbed Zuko's ponytail, bobbing the boy's head.

"That's how it's done, boy," the man groaned. "That's it. Just like that..."

He watched as the boy below him struggled to breathe, choking for air. He smirked when he saw tears fall from the boy's eyes.

Zhao came with a muffled moan, watching as the boy sputtered and coughed. 

"Swallow," he ordered.

He watched as the boy obediently did as he was told. Zhao wiped the dribble of cum on the side of Zuko's mouth and held his fingers to the boy's face. The man cooed as the ten-year-old lapped up the substance and started sucking on the fingers.

Zhao smiled. He trained the boy well.

With his free hand, he tugged at the hairband securing Zuko's ponytail. He watched as the hair fell freely, running his hands through the black locks in wonder. In hindsight, the boy did look like his mother. That was a plus; at least his mother was a beauty. 

"Long hair suits you..." the man muttered, combing through the boy's hair with his free hand. "Grow it out more. You'll look like a girl."

He pulled his fingers out of the boy's mouth and pointed to the mattress. "On your back. Spread your legs, babe."

The man watched as the boy obeyed without a second thought. 

Zuko was, slowly but surely, breaking. 

His toy would be ready in no time.

*********

It went on for a year. Even when the new school year started, nothing had changed. Ozai kept up with his abuse. Zhao always visited Zuko's room every night, only to leave before dawn broke. The only thing different now was Azula.

Her anger appeared one day and never made an effort to leave. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to be mean; it was just long overdue. Her anger at the world--the anger that she wanted to direct at her father--was evidently directed at Zuko. 

She didn't want to.

But she couldn't help it.

It was _easier_.

Sure, she felt guilty for doing it. In times like that, she justified everything with the need of getting a reaction out of Zuko.

And it _annoyed her_ when he wouldn't react. At all. 

She would go into the kitchen while he was fixing dinner or washing the dishes.

"You're not cleaning the dishes properly," she would sneer. "And make sure the food is edible this time. It always tastes bad."

She would get into her father's car after school and roughly nudge Zuko when she saw him. 

"What are your grades like?" she would ask, not caring that their father was glaring at Zuko the entire time. "Nevermind. I bet you're stupid."

She would go to his room and dump her clothes into his room.

"Are you lazy?! Why haven't you done the laundry yet?!" she would yell. "And take a shower, for spirit's sake! I can smell you from here!"

No matter what she did--no matter what she said--Zuko would always react the same way.

Numbly.

"I'm sorry," he would whisper, every single time.

Azula's anger grew. She knew it was never Zuko's fault, but he was just _so easy_ to target. He never made a noise, not even when Ozai was beating him black and blue. 

Azula just wanted her brother to stand up for himself. For once.

_Just once._

But he never did. She watched as he grew numb to the world, and she never knew why. With each day that passed, her brother grew thinner. 

Quieter.

Number.

Weaker.

_He was weak._

At some point, Zuko stopped speaking. Azula didn't know when; she just knew that Zuko didn't respond to anything. When that day came, she started watching him closer. She still picked on him, but she started noticing little movements here and there.

He always wrung his hands together.

He always looked at the ground.

He always held his breath in when others were speaking to him. 

He always flinched when someone touched him.

Eventually, Azula started noticing that the little movements intensified when Uncle Zhao was in the room. 

She noticed how tense Zuko became. How he looked like he wanted to cry when he was near the man. How he leaned away from every little touch. How he started to fidget with every glance the man gave him. 

Azula always worried. She was mean, but she always worried.

Every night, she left her bedroom door wide open. She could hear Zhao walk upstairs and go into Zuko's room. She could make out every small sound coming from said bedroom if she listened close enough. She never knew what the sounds were--or what they meant--but it sounded bad.

Even though she was mean, she worried for her brother. Every night, she left her bedroom door open and waited for her brother to come to her room, just like the old days.

He never came, but Azula always kept her door wide open.

*********

**CW: rape/sexual assault of a minor, descriptions of child abuse**

Ozai noticed. He knew _exactly_ what was going on. But would he ever stop it?

Never.

There was a night, early into what was happening, where his son's bedroom door was left wide open. He could hear the screams of a tortured boy, as well as the grunts of a man telling him to shut up. That night, his conscience didn't let him sleep. There was a feeling clawing at his chest, and it hurt.

_It hurt so bad._

When the screaming turned into begging, Ozai found his feet carrying him down the hallway. He didn't know why his heart pounded so furiously against his chest. He came to his sense when he entered the bedroom, staring at the scene in front of him.

Zuko--his son, his _boy_ \--was looking at him. Reaching for him. Begging him for help.

On top of his son was Zhao--a man he respected with every inch of his soul. The man looked pleased when Ozai entered the room, almost welcoming him as though he wasn't doing something horrendous. 

"Would you like to join, Ozai?" the man asked him.

Ozai looked at Zuko. A foreign feeling entered his mind, and he didn't know what it was. All he knew was that he wanted to grab the boy-- _his son_ \--and hold him. He wanted to tell his son that it was okay--that he was safe. He wanted to carry the boy away from the room and tuck him into a real bed--like the one Azula slept in. 

He wanted to tell the man he respected to fuck off. He wanted to risk his job to throw the man out of his home. 

_Because he was hurting Zuko. He was hurting his son, the boy he raised and had grown to love before his daughter was born._

But the better part of his mind spoke up against the foreign thoughts he was having. It told him that Zhao could never do anything wrong. It told him that this would only make Zuko stronger. It told him to ignore everything that was happening and go on his merry way.

Ozai wanted to fight the better part of his mind.

Instead, he took one last look at the scene in front of him and walked out of the room. He could hear his son screaming for help, pleading that he would do anything. Ozai closed the bedroom door and walked back to his room. As he got into his bed, he thought about what he did.

He made the right decision. This would make Zuko stronger, and if it didn't, at least he was useful for _something._

He made a good choice. It was the best thing to do.

So why did he cry himself to sleep that night?

*********

In Fire Fountain City, when students went into sixth grade, they started learning the basics of Sexual Education. The teacher warned that, even if the topic started to get uncomfortable, she would not tolerate any giggling or laughter. At first, Zuko thought nothing of it. It was just a lesson, and he didn't really pay attention in school nowadays. It didn't matter to him.

But as the lesson drew on, the more Zuko found himself paying attention. A sick feeling bubbled in his stomach as the teacher droned on and on about what sex was. It was a very vague description, but the longer the teacher talked, the quicker the dots in his mind started to connect.

"Now, this is just a one-day lesson, since your parents _should_ be talking to you about these things," the teacher lectured, "But there's one more thing that you should know: consent. Does anyone know what that is?"

A few hands shot up in the air. In the corner of his eye, Zuko saw the teacher call on Mai, who happened to be in his class that year. 

"Doesn't it mean permission?" she asked.

Zuko saw the teacher nod, smiling at the girl. 

"Yes, Mai, good answer," the teacher praised. "To give consent means to give permission."

The sick feeling in Zuko's stomach bubbled until it reached his chest. As the teacher explained the importance of consent, he slowly raised his hand. When the teacher called on him, he froze in his seat.

How would he ask without making it obvious?

"Did you have a question, Zuko?" the teacher asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

He never spoke in class before. He never cared enough to. 

Could she see how troubled he looked?

The boy, now eleven, cleared his throat. "What if... What if you don't give consent?" He paused before adding, quieter than before, "What if you don't know what's going on?"

The teacher's eyes widened. The boy could see the inner turmoil going on inside her head as she looked at him. Had she figured it out?

She turned to the rest of the class and explained in a strict voice, "That would be wrong. It is wrong for _anyone_ to do anything without consent." She then looked over at Zuko; her voice turned gentle and soft. "Children cannot consent. Therefore, if an adult--or _anyone_ for that matter--is doing something you don't like, tell your parents... or teachers."

Zuko lets the words wash over him. When the sick feeling rose up to his throat, he raised his hand and asked to be dismissed to go to the bathroom. He saw the way his teacher's eyes lingered on him in worry as he walked out. He sped towards the nearest bathroom and made sure no one else was there before going into a stall.

As soon as the stall was locked, he turned towards the toilet and puked. 

*********

The school year soon ended. Students were sent home with report card. Zuko already knew what his report said. More than once did his teacher sit him down and ask him why he was going poorly in class. 

"You did so well last year," she would say, "What happened now? You're not participating. You're not doing any work assigned. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Zuko would silently shake his head and wait to be dismissed. The teacher stopped asking after a while and just let the boy be. In hindsight, his grades never dipped below a C-. His grades were passable, and that's all that mattered.

When it came time to give his report card to his father, Zuko braced himself for the immediate impact. Not even a second later, he found himself being thrown to the floor.

"You have the _nerve_ to show me this?!" Ozai screamed, crumbling the report card and throwing it at Zuko. "The highest you could bring home was a B?!"

As he reached for his belt, Zuko held his breath in. He watched his father unbuckle his belt before a hand reached out and stopped the man. 

"Let me handle it," Zhao said, smirking at Zuko, "I think he'll learn better with what I'll do."

Zuko paled as he saw Ozai nod. The boy almost begged for his father to reconsider. All he was met with was a dead stare as he was dragged upstairs to his bedroom.

That night, Zuko screamed and begged louder than he ever had until he passed out from the pain. 

*********

That summer, Azula asked her father if her friends could come over. Ozai, who would do anything for his daughter, always said yes. 

Why wouldn't he?

She was smart, mature, and responsible. At her age, already nine, she was better than his son. 

She should have everything she desired.

That summer, Ty Lee and Mai frequented the house. They would stay for hours until their parents picked them up, or until Ozai drove them home. During those hours, Zuko stayed in his room as quietly as he could. He withdrew himself from every interaction, favoring silence over fun. Mai and Ty Lee never entered his room, even though he would hear them running up and down the hallway a few times.

No one except Azula and Ozai knew he was home. He was sure Mai and Ty Lee subconsciously knew he was somewhere at home, but they had never asked about him. 

it was better this way. Zuko was happy he wasn't bothering anyone. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

One early summer day, Mai and Ty Lee came over unexpectedly. Ozai let the two girls in when they told him that they came to surprise Azula. Of course, Azula was ecstatic when she came downstairs to find her friends in her living room. Ozai let the three girls be and left for work.

That day, Zuko didn't know Mai and Ty Lee had come over. Otherwise, he would have gotten up and closed the bedroom door. He was surprised he couldn't hear them conversing downstairs, but he was too far gone in his head to take in his surroundings.

As the three girls played hide-and-seek downstairs, Zuko laid on his mattress and stared up at his ceiling. He imagined a night sky filled with stars and the moon. He imagined being at a park with a pond filled with turtles and ducks. He thought about his mother--how he would be sitting next to her near the pond, feeding the small creatures banana bread. His mother promised to take him one day.

She also said that she took him to such a park when he was two-years-old. She said she was seven months pregnant with Azula, and Zuko had laughed when she had trouble sitting down on the picnic blanket she brought along. Zuko smiled at that thought. He couldn't remember doing that, but he was sure that his mother told him the truth.

It must have been a pleasant memory for her. 

As Zuko was lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize someone had come upstairs and down the hallway. The only thing that broke him out of his thoughts was a loud gasp. Zuko quickly turned his head and froze. His eyes landed on Mai, who looked around the room in confusion. 

She came upstairs to hide for the game, but...

"Zuko, what is this...?" she asked, walking towards him.

The eleven-year-old boy got up from the mattress, keeping his eyes on the girl. 

"It looks like a room used for horror movies," she laughed, "You know, where they torture prisoners. It looks like that."

Zuko watched as Mai kept looking around the room. She went towards his closet and started rummaging around.

"Look at all these rags!" Her hands examined the clothes hanging up. "Who would even wear these?"

When Zuko didn't respond, Mai looked over at him. She saw how nervous he looked.

She sighed. "Are you not going to speak to me?"

He kept quiet. Mai huffed and walked up to him.

"You know," she began, "I get that maybe you got tired of hanging around Azula at school, but we're best friends! Or we were! And then you go and stop talking to me? I'm sorry if I got mad at you last year on Ty Lee's behalf, but even _she_ wanted to apologize to you! Yet the day sixth grade began, you never-- _not once_ \--hung out with me! Or Ty Lee! Or Azula! I thought that maybe-- _just maybe_ \--you didn't feel comfortable talking to a bunch of girls at school. I thought that the boys in our class were teasing you about it. Maybe that's why you stopped talking to me. But now that I'm in your home, you don't even _want_ to have a conversation with me?!"

Mai studied Zuko, seeing how he was now looking at the ground. She wanted to shake him by his shoulders and demand an answer. They used to be best friends. Why did they stop talking? She noticed how he started to wring his hands together, twisting them together harshly.

Was he nervous?

Why...?

After a few moments of staring at Zuko, Mai gave up and turned her back towards him. Her eyes landed back on the closet; she walked towards it. There was something weird about the room. Despite being nearly empty, it seemed as though someone lived there. Spirits?

No, a person.

Her hands shuffled through the clothes-- _literal rags_ \--before her eyes caught onto a nicely hung uniform.

A boy's uniform.

_Zuko's school uniform._

Mai froze before looking around the room in horror. Her eyes landed on the thin mattress and the thin blanket. When she looked closely, she could see stains of seemed to be dried blood.

She knew what dried blood looked like; she was eleven. At her age, most girls knew.

Her breath got caught in her throat as her eyes lingered over to Zuko.

Maybe it was because he was always so skinny, but something about the way he looked didn't seem quite right. 

Now that Mai thought about it, Zuko wasn't just skinny. He was _too_ skinny. Almost skin and bones if it weren't for the clothes he was wearing.

And the more Mai looked at Zuko, the more she could see how the clothes he was wearing matched the clothes in his closet: torn and raggedy. 

"Zuko..." Mai whispered, "...Is this your room?"

When Zuko didn't look at her, Mai gulped. She quietly walked out of the room, taking one last look at the boy before gently closing his bedroom door. She quickly walked downstairs and asked Azula if she could call her parents. Though a little disappointed, Azula gave the girl the landline phone. 

When Mai's mother picked her up, the girl quickly bid her friends goodbye and silently got into her mother's car. 

Zuko's silence confirmed her suspicions. She needed to tell someone.

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse, near-death experience**

Three days passed. On August 9, police showed up to the front of Ozai's house. The man opened his door and asked what the problem was.

"We need to search your house, sir," the officer--Officer Ming--stated. "We got a call about child neglect and endangerment. We just need to check if the children in this house are doing alright."

Ozai glared at the woman. "Do you have a search warrant?"

"No, sir."

"Come back with a warrant."

Ozai closed the door in the officer's face and stomped upstairs. His heavy footsteps carried themselves all the way to Zuko's bedroom, where he found the boy asleep on his mattress. He yanked the boy out of his bed and threw him on the floor, kicking his stomach to wake him up.

"I'm going to ask you once and you better answer me the first time, boy," Ozai spat. "Why the _fuck_ were the police at my front door just now?"

Zuko fearfully shook his head. "I-I don't know."

Ozai leaned down and grabbed the boy's shirt collar, looking Zuko in the eye. "They said they got a call about child neglect and endangerment. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"N-No."

"You damn liar!" Ozai pushed the boy to the ground and started to unbuckle his belt. "If the police come back, I'll give them a reason to put me behind bars."

The man belted the boy, watching as the eleven-year-old tried to crawl away. He grabbed the boy's arm and held him in place, grumbling as his son let out tiny whimpers of pain every time the belt whipped him.

"After all that I've done for you," Ozai sneered, "I give you a house to live in. I give you clothes to wear. I let you live, boy! What else do you want me to do for your ungrateful ass?!" 

The man wrapped the belt around his son's neck and pulled, squeezing it tightly. "Do you want to die, boy?! Is that what you want?! After all that I've done for you, do you just want me to end your life?! You want to end up like your useless mother, don't you?!"

Through the choked breaths, Ozai made out a small whisper of words. He loosened the belt around his son's neck and grabbed his hair, watching as the boy coughed and tried to regain his breathing.

"What did you just say to me?" Ozai asked in a low, sinister voice. 

His hands pulled at the boy's locks threateningly. He placed his other hand on Zuko's throat, squeezing it just as the boy caught his breath.

Zuko looked into his father's eyes, knowing exactly what he was about to do. If he was going to die today, he would die without regrets.

" _I hate you_ ," he whispered.

Time seemed as though it froze. Zuko watched as Ozai's face morphed from anger into confusion. The boy suddenly felt brave, up until his father's anger returned.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" the man questioned condescendingly.

Years of rage exploded out of of Zuko. His eyes held a hatred that he never knew existed inside of him. 

He looked into his father's eyes and yelled, "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate everything about you!"

The look on his father's face was of pure shock. 

Zuko continued, struggling against Ozai's hold. "I hate how, every time I look at my friends and see the way they look up to their fathers, I can't look up to you the same way! I hate how you treat me in contrast to Azula, and it doesn't even bother you! Not one bit! I hate how you blame me for mama's death when _you were the one that murdered her in cold blood!_ I hate how you beat me without a second thought and expect me to be okay with it! I hate how you never help me whenever I ask for help!" Zuko felt tears prick his eyes. His voice wobbled as he went on, "I hate how you didn't help me that night! I begged you! You closed the door instead of helping me! You let Uncle Zhao do whatever he wants to do because you put him on a pedestal! What he does is wrong, and I shouldn't be telling a _murderer_ how wrong it is to do things without consent! I HATE YOU!"

As Zuko spoke, Ozai grew more and more frustrated. When the boy yelled out his last words, Ozai growled and tightened his grip on the boy's hair. He dragged his son out of the room and downstairs, paying no mind to how many times the latter tripped or cried out. He pulled the boy into the kitchen and turned on the gas stove. As soon as he saw a flame, he shoved Zuko's face into it.

Ozai winced the second his son started to scream; the sound became annoying to his ears. He watched as the boy struggled, flinging his limbs to get out of the man's hold. The smell of burnt flesh filled the kitchen. Ozai looked around the kitchen and noticed a kettle by the stove. Just a few minutes ago, before the police had come to his doorstep, he boiled water to set aside for tea. 

The man took his son's face out the stove flame and reached for the kettle. He dragged the boy to the kitchen sink and tipped his head back, pouring the hot water onto the burnt side of his face. 

"You don't get to hate me, Zuko," the man muttered, "You deserved every single thing that happened to you."

Ozai watched his son--deaf to his screams--as he continued pouring the hot water onto the burnt area. He didn't stop when Zuko fell limp in his hold. When the water from the kettle emptied out, he turned on the hot water from the sink faucet, bringing his son's head under the heated stream.

The smell of burnt flesh filled Ozai's senses, but he didn't care. As the hot water kept running, Ozai reached over and grabbed a knife resting on the kitchen counter. 

Might as well sent Ursa a gift while he was at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm having second thoughts about my writing. I've read other fanfictions and noted how good everyone else is with how they write. I feel really bad with the way I use words, since I still don't know much English. It's not my first language and, even though I'm getting really good at writing, I've been told that I don't do well with speaking. I think that somehow also translates into my writing.
> 
> So if any of you find any mistakes, could you please let me know? I know I'm not a very good writer, so any constructive feedback will help me! If you all also find any words that I need to substitute to make the writing better, please let me know!


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko doesn't know what happened while he was unconscious. It all comes crashing down when he finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: character death, child abuse, rape/sexual assault of a minor, mentions of panic attacks

**CW: character death, descriptions of child abuse**

_The sun shined through the curtains of the bedroom. Azula awoke, squinting at the light that penetrated her vision. She felt a soft bed beneath her; the mattress didn't dig into her sides as she laid on top of it. Her mind vaguely registered how she was sleeping on her own bed, not the thin mattress in her brother's room. Azula sighed and tried to close her eyes, saddened that she let her brother sleep in his own room._

_Then she heard a groan._

_Azula opened her eyes again, turning to her other side. She saw Zuko rubbing his eyes, seemingly disgruntled by the light shining through the window._

_"Azulaaaa..." he whined, pulling her duvet over his head. "Turn the light off..."_

_The girl rolled her eyes. "The light is coming from the sun, Zuzu. I can't just turn the sun off."_

_She heard him groan, peaking out from under the duvet with squinted eyes. With one more peak at the window, Zuko covered his head back up and dived deeper into the bed. Azula followed; her eyes slowly started to adjust to the darkness under the duvet._

_But she could see her brother's face. Unharmed. Happy. Relaxed._

_"Where's mama?" he asked her._

_Azula winced. "...Don't you remember...?"_

_She could see his eyes cloud with confusion before realization set into them. "Oh right," he sighed, "She's in the bathroom. Nevermind."_

_Azula became bewildered. She wanted to correct him. Their mother was dead, and she died right in front of them. The girl opened her mouth to sort out her brother's mistake, but stopped when she heard a voice._

_"Zuko? Azula?" the voice called out._

_Azula stilled, but she watched as her brother's face lit up. He uncovered his face and sat up on her bed, and Azula slowly found herself following. Her eyes caught a figure standing by the door of her bedroom._

_It was her mother._

_"Baby?" her mother called out to her, looking right into her eyes. "Why do you look so confused?"_

_Azula couldn't find it in herself to speak, but she felt her eyes start to prick. She didn't stop the tear that slid down her face, nor did she stop the sobs coming out of her throat. She watched as her mother grew concerned and run towards her, engulfing her in an embrace._

_"Azula, oh my poor baby..." She heard her mother soothe her, patting her back comfortingly. "Did you have another nightmare?"_

_The girl wailed, clinging onto her mother. She heard Zuko try to comfort her, feeling his hands run through her hair as he asked her what was wrong._

_"Why didn't you tell me you had a nightmare?" he asked her. "I could have helped. It's okay. You're okay, 'zula. Don't cry..."_

_She reached for Zuko's hand, clutching it tightly into her own. She wouldn't let go--not now. Not ever._

_"Hmm..." her mother wondered. "...I know what will make you feel better!"_

_Azula, from the corner of her eye, saw Zuko look at his mother and smile widely. Almost mischievously. She heard her mother laugh quietly before the woman dug her hands into Azula's sides. In her shock, the girl let out a surprised yelp and let go of Zuko's hand. He followed suit, grabbing her bare feet and gently brushing them. Azula let out enough laughter for even the neighbors to hear._

_She almost forgot how ticklish she was._

_"ZUZU, MY FEET! MY FEET ARE SENSITIVE! ZUZU, STOP!" she laughed, flailing her limbs around. "MAMA, I'M TICKLISH! I'M TICKLISH! STOP! TELL ZUZU TO STOP!"_

_She heard the two laugh with her, worsening their antics until she felt her stomach tighten from laughing too hard. That's when she heard another voice enter the room._

_"What's going on?"_

_Zuko and Ursa stepped away from Azula, looking over to the door. There stood Ozai, his arms crossed across his chest and he was... smiling?_

_"Azula had a nightmare," her mother explained. She noticed how the woman's voice didn't once waver._

_"We were just trying to cheer her up, papa," Zuko sighed._

_She watched as her father's smile turned into a frown--a worried frown. He came closer to the trio and slowly sat at the edge of Azula's bed. He looked at her with concern._

_"Are you alright, sweetie?" he asked her._

_Azula found herself nodding. If she was confused (or even wary), she didn't show it. She watched as her father cooed and reached out to grab her. She let herself be picked up and settled into his arms._

_She felt safe._

_She saw her mother come around and stand in front of her, holding Zuko's hand. Azula took her eyes off of her mother and brother, looking up at her father._

_"You're really brave!" he told her. "When I was your age, I had a lot of nightmares!"_

_"Really?" she asked, intrigued._

_"Of course! Everyone has nightmares!"_

_"Are you disappointed in me?"_

_She watched as Ozai's face contorted into confusion. "No, of course not! Why would I be? I could never be disappointed in you, Azula. Never!"_

_She smiled at him--at her father. She felt safe. She felt secure._

_This is what family was supposed to be._

_"You cheered her up!" she heard her mother giggle. "That's my girl!"_

_Azula turned her head to smile at her mother..._

_...Only to scream in horror at what she saw._

_"What's wrong, baby?" her mother asked her._

_Azula's eyes followed the blood trail in the corner of her mother's eyes. Her eyes were blackened and swollen in. She was missing teeth, and her nose was bent at an abnormal angle. Her once flawless face was bruised so severely, and suddenly all the memories from before came back. Her mother wasn't supposed to be alive._

_"Azula, are you alright?" she heard her brother ask._

_The girl turned to look at her brother, sobbing at the sight. His smile was crooked and painful. He had a black eye and a reddened cheek. Blood dripped from his eyes, and it took a few seconds for Azula to realize her brother was crying._

_He was crying._

_And his tears were bloody._

_He was crying blood._

_Why was there so much blood?_

_"Why are you crying, Azula?" she heard her father ask._

_Azula looked up at her father, wanting him to let her go. She didn't feel safe in his arms anymore. She didn't want to be carried by him anymore._

_"Wake up, Azula," he told her, smiling at her._

_He shouldn't be smiling. Why was he smiling?_

_"Wake up, Azula," she heard her mother tell her._

_Azula looked over at her mother, subtly processing how her mother was on the ground now, lying in a puddle of red. Blood._

_"Azula! Wake up!" she heard her brother scream._

_He was screaming. Where was he?_

_Azula looked around her room, desperately searching for her brother. Her eyes landed on a corner, where he huddled into himself. Above him stood Uncle Zhao with a belt in his hand._

_"Azula!" he screamed for her, crying tears of blood._

_She tried to reach out of him--yelling for him--only for her body to be carried away. The girl struggled to get out of Ozai's grasp. She needed to help her brother._

_She had to help Zuko._

_But no matter what she tried, she couldn't move. She was frozen in Ozai's hold, and all she could do was listen to her brother's screams._

_"Azula!"_

_"Help me!"_

_"Please! Azula, please! AZULA!"_

_"HELP ME!"  
_

_"AZULA!"_

_"WAKE UP!"_

_"WAKE UP, AZULA! WAKE UP!"_

Azula awoke with a gasp. She breathed in and out harshly, trying to steady her breath. Her mind slowly registered her dream--how she had another one for the third night in a row. This particular dream haunted her soul, always coming and going. it always began and ended the same way: her family was safe and together, up until reality crashed.

But something about the dream today made her restless. When she felt her breathing start to become normal, she sighed and flopped down back on her bed. The screams of her brother rang through her mind, just like every morning after the nightmare. Usually, the screams were the same as the ones in the dream.

This morning, however, they felt different. They felt real. Almost as though the screams escaped her dream and ventured into the hallway. Or downstairs.

Downstairs...

Azula's blood ran cold when she realized the screams weren't just a figment of her imagination. They were real. They were Zuko's. 

_They came from downstairs._

Auzla rose from her bed with a jolt and ran into the hallway. She could hear them clearer now.

Zuko was in trouble. 

He was screaming. 

Someone was hurting him.

_Zuko was being hurt._

Azula quickly ran down the hallway and to the staircase, racing down the steps. She slowed down slightly when she heard the screams start to die down. The girl quietly tiptoed into the dining room before freezing in her spot. She instinctively wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning, but focused her eyes on what she was seeing. 

Her father was holding Zuko under the sink. 

Her brother wasn't making a noise. 

Her brother was limp in her father's hands.

Her father was grabbing something from the counter.

A knife.

He grabbed a knife.

Azula watched as Ozai slowly brought the knife to Zuko's throat. She trembled as she let her feet carry her towards the kitchen. She saw a knife on the counter closest to her and quietly reached out, grabbing it and hiding it behind her back. The girl halted, not knowing what to do. Now that she was closer, she could see everything much better. The smell was worse up closer, and a part of her almost regretted coming into the kitchen. 

Then she heard it--her father's cold voice.

"Say hello to your mother for me, boy," the man whispered. His grip on the knife in his hand tightened. 

Azula quickly connected the dots. The words ripped out of her throat before she could stop them: "Papa, no!"

She watched as her father jumped back, seemingly startled. He turned to look at her, and Azula contemplated in that moment whether or not she made the right decision.

"Azula?" he questioned, his eyes widened in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I--" The girl paused. She looked at her father, and then at her brother. Her voice wobbled when she spoke again. "...What are you doing, papa?"

"Go to your room, Azula." Ozai shook his head, turning his eyes away from his daughter. "I'll tell you later."

"But... But what are you doing to Zuzu?"

"His _name_ isn't ' _Zuzu_ ', Azula. It's _Zuko_. You're older now; don't be childish--"

"What are you doing to _Zuko_?" she interrupted.

Azula heard her father scoff, not once looking back at her. "I said go to your room, Azula." 

She trembled, but stood firmer. "I'm not going until you tell me what you're doing."

It took a while for Ozai to answer, but when he did, Azula's heart dropped.

"I'm sending the boy to his mother."

The girl stuttered, looking up at her father in disbelief, "B-But... mama's dead..."

"Exactly."

Azula watched wordlessly as her father's grip on the knife settled in tighter. When the man brought the knife back towards Zuko's throat, Azula found her voice again.

She yelled. "NO!"

When he stilled, she continued. "PUT HIM DOWN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PUT ZUKO DOWN!"

Azula never screamed at her father before. In all nine years of her life, she had never raised her voice so much as she was doing now. Not once.

But in that moment, nothing else matter.

Azula saw her mother in Zuko. 

She didn't want her brother to die. 

The nine-year-old kept screaming; her voice wobbled and cracked too often. Her vision blurred--she knew she was crying, and she would _maybe_ be punished for it, but she didn't care. She didn't quiet down until she saw her father turn to look at her with a deep scowl on his face.

" _You_..." Ozai sneered, "You better have a good _goddamn_ reason for not listening to me."

Azula whimpered, taking a step back. She tried to avert her eyes from her father; he was scaring her.

She looked over at the sink, barely realizing that the stream was on. As steam poured into the air, the girl's stomach started doing flips. 

Hot water.

Her father was holding Zuko under _hot, boiling water_.

Was that why he was screaming? Did her father kill her brother by drowning him in hot water?

_Was Zuzu dead?_

_Like mama?_

"Let him go," Azula whispered, staring at her brother's limp form.

"Speak up, girl," Ozai scolded, his glare deepening. "I taught you better than your brother!"

"Let him go," the girl said, just a little louder. She knew she sounded whiny, or maybe a little childish.

But that was what she was: a child. A _scared_ child. 

When Ozai remained unmoved--still holding Zuko under the stream--Azula grounded herself. The pent-up anger that she directed at Zuko for the past year burst out. Her fear was replaced with wrath, and she directed that wrath at the one person who deserved it the most.

"I said let him go!" She stepped forward, glaring through tears that ran down her face. "Let him go now, or I swear to all the spirits in the sky--!"

"Oh, you swear?" Ozai scoffed. "Who taught you to swear? Your _mother_?"

"She taught me more than you ever have. She was a better parent than you!"

"Fine, then tell me: what were you doing to?"

It seemed as though the world stopped. Azula's mind ran through ever possible thing she wanted to do. She looked over at her brother, staring at his unmoving form. She glanced up at her father, seeing how amused he was. When her eyes traveled over to the knife in his hand, her mind set upon a decision.

" _Let my brother go_ ," she stated, her teeth gritting.

"Or else what?" Ozai asked mockingly. The whole scene was amusing to him. 

What was a nine-year-old girl going to do? 

" _Or else..._ " Azula uncovered the knife she was hiding behind her back, clutching it in her hand tightly. " _...I'll kill you_."

Ozai's eyes widened. Whether it was shock or fear, Azula didn't care. She held her glare as her father slowly put his knife on the counter and took Zuko's head out of the stream. She watched as he tossed the boy onto the kitchen floor carelessly. The girl's glare softened into concern as she watched her brother's body fall, thudding harshly but remaining limp.

"Is Zuzu dead?" Azula asked absentmindedly. 

"No," she heard her father say, not once looking up at him.

With her eyes fixed on her brother, Azula let out a breathe of relief. Zuko wasn't dead. That was good. That meant he was just unconscious.

Zuko wasn't dead.

_Zuko wasn't dead._

All signs of relief ended when she heard her father mumble, "But he will be soon."

Azula looked up fast enough to see Ozai quickly grab the knife he placed on the counter. The man dropped to his knees and held the knife in the air, getting ready to bring it down. Azula's acted before she could think, running up to her father.

"NO!" she screamed.

Maybe she could disarm him just in time.

Maybe she could push his arm away.

Maybe she could take the blow instead.

Her mind raced with endless possibilities. She needed to save Zuko. 

He shouldn't die.

Not like her mother.

Not by her father's hand.

_Not another death._

The racing thoughts in her mind stopped when she heard a clank. She looked towards the source of the noise and saw a knife hit the ground. 

Was it her knife?

No, there was still something in her hand.

Was it her father's knife?

Azula looked up to see her father's hand--empty. He dropped his knife.

The girl looked over at her brother and sobbed in relief.

He was unharmed. Well, he was harmed already, as well as unconscious, but there was no knife in him. 

Zuko was alive.

But why did her father drop his knife?

Time slowed when Azula heard her father cough. She looked at her hands, gasping when she saw what she had done.

She had stabbed her father.

Her hands started coating in blood, feeling warm and cold at the same time. She shakily removed the knife from her father's chest, looking up at him in shock. 

"P-Papa...?" she called out, confused and worried.

All the anger from before disappeared completely. All that was left was fear. 

Instead of answering back, Azula watched as her father's hand inched towards the knife he dropped. Fear clouded Azula's mind as reality hit.

Her father was going to stab her.

Or her brother.

He was going to hurt someone again.

The girl closed her eyes and stabbed her father once more, not caring where she hit him. 

And then again.

And again.

And then she opened her eyes.

She dropped her knife and stumbled back, looking at what she had done. She watched as her father fell to the ground, letting out harsh breaths. 

Azula listened to her father, waiting to see if he would move again. She listened to every breath he took with enough anxiety to send an elephant into a panic. 

She listened until she didn't hear him breathe again.

The kitchen was silent, save for the ragged thumping of her heart. Azula looked at her hands and dropped to her knees. The blood was drying on her hands. She started rubbing her palms together, trying to get the substance off. She started sobbing, growing louder when the blood wouldn't come off. 

She was scared.

She was so scared.

At some point, the doorbell rang. 

" _Fire Fountain Police_ ," a voice from behind the door called out, " _This is Officer Ming. We have a search warrant._ "

Officer Ming?

Azula remembered her. Officer Ming was nice. Officer Ming gave good hugs, just like mama.

Officer Ming would know what do to.

But Officer Ming was a police officer. 

Azula looked over at her father. As far as the law went, Azula knew that she murdered her father. In hindsight, if a police officer walked into the kitchen, they would know what happened. They would sent Azula away as punishment--perhaps to a jail or a rehabilitation center.

" _Is anyone home?_ " the voice--Officer Ming--spoke up. There was knocking on the door before she said, " _My officers and I will break down this door if no one opens within the next minute._ "

Azula had to make a choice, and she had a minute to do so. She looked at her hands and sniffled, wincing as the smell of metallic iron and burnt flesh filled her senses. She glared at the dried blood on her hands before glancing at her (presumably) dead father and (presumably) unconscious brother.

Azula took a deep breath in and stood up, trying to stop her legs from shaking. She quietly went to the front door and unlocked it.

With nervous hands, she opened the door.

*********

Officer Ming had seen and been through a lot of things in her line of work. Having worked for many years in the police force, she had become desensitized to heaps of trauma and unlawful scenarios. She had looked right in the face of danger and never cowered once.

Nothing could prepare her for what she saw when the door opened. She had been shocked to see a small girl instead of the adult man that turned her and her officers away the first time.

Officer Ming remembered that small girl. Years ago, there was a girl and a boy at the police station. They were told their mother's murder had been concluded as a suicide. The officer remembered walking into that scene and seeing the woman's body--Ursa, she recalled the name. She remembered how much blood was on the floor and on the walls that day.

She wasn't shocked when she saw the woman's body. She was used to blood--the smell, the sight, and the source.

What _did_ trouble her was the fact that there was blood on the girl that opened the door. Officer Ming had dealt with cases where psychotic children covered themselves with blood. She had seen cases where children were bathed in their own blood.

Never had she seen a child look so _scared_ while being covered in blood.

That girl--Azula, she had recalled--looked so scared.

When Ming looked closer, she could see how shaken Azula was. She could make out the tear-tracks on her face. She could see the small quivering of the girl's lips and the watery shine in the girl's eyes.

"Are you here to arrest me?" the girl asked.

Officer Ming just grew more alarmed. Never had a child--one so scared and on the verge of tears--asked her if they were going to jail. 

At least, never had a child so _innocent_ asked if they were going to jail.

What was going on?

"Hello..." Officer Ming paused, wracking her mind for the girl's name (she knew it; she just recalled it a few moments ago). "...Azula? Is that your name?"

The girl nodded.

"I'm Officer Ming," the woman smiled at the girl (bloody, scared, about to cry--). "May I please come in?"

It took a while for the Azula to respond, but when she did, Ming had to strain her ears to hear her.

"Can you come inside alone?" the girl whispered.

Ming kept her smile, trying to be as gentle as possible, before turning around and looking at the other officers accompanying her.

"I'm going to go in there alone," she explained to them. "Give me twenty minutes. Unless I give a signal, do not enter the house until then."

The officers, still either new recruits or not as seasoned as she was, listened to her. She worked longer than all of them; she had seniority. Ming dismissed the officers, making sure they made their way to their patrol cars before slowly entering the house. Her hand reached up to turn off her body cam; a gut feeling telling her that it was necessary to do. She drew out her gun just in case, watching as Azula closed and locked the front door. Almost immediately, the smell of burnt flesh and blood filled her senses. The officer was no stranger to those smells; she had walked into them too many times.

"Ms. Ming?" Azula whispered, calling out to her.

Ming turned around and watched as Azula put her hands in front of her face, showing the officer. They were coated in blood, and Ming almost wanted to wash the girl's hands for her.

"Ms. Ming," Azula whispered, this time a little louder. "I did a bad thing."

The officer crouched down, lowering her gun. "What happened?"

When Azula said quiet, Ming sighed. "I won't be mad, Azula. Just tell me what happened. Please."

Without a word, the girl started walking. Ming got up and followed her, noticing how they were entering the kitchen. Upon entering, the officer had to clear her mind to properly take in what she was seeing. A boy was laying on the floor; half of his face was red and peeling. The woman realized the boy was Azula's brother--the same boy that had come to the police station the day of Ursa's murder-suicide.

Ming's eyes glanced over at the other body in the kitchen. It was the man that first opened the door that morning--Ozai. There was a pool of blood under him and a bloody knife to his side. She walked over to the bodies and checked their pulses.

The man's pulse was gone, but the boy was still alive. Barely, but still breathing.

Ming looked over at the bloody knife and glanced back at Azula. Her eyes traveled to the girl's hands--bloody hands.

"I did a very bad thing..." she heard Azula whisper again, her voice wavering. 

It suddenly clicked for Ming.

Murder.

Azula stabbed her father.

But why?

There was always a motive.

The woman looked at the crime scene. Her eyes landed on the boy--unconscious and barely breathing. The officer knelt down and gently examined the boy's face. The left side of his face was severely burnt, and the boy's hair was wet. Did someone burn him?

Perhaps she should call in other officers. 

Ming reached for her portable radio to tell the officers to come inside the house, but stopped when she noticed something. Her hand wavered above her radio before going over to lift the boy's thin shirt just above his waist.

Bruises. Light scars. Imprints left of what could only be a belt.

Ming's hand reached over to the boy's shirt collar and examined the skin there. She almost threw up when she noticed what was there.

A hand print.

And... hickeys?

Ming looked over at the man's dead body and started to connect the clues she found. She was no detective, but she was a seasoned officer. She knew what abuse looked like.

One look at Azula already told Ming that the girl was nowhere near being physically abused, but the boy looked _damaged._

Perhaps that was Azula's motive: she wanted to protect her brother. He already looked half-dead. Perhaps the girl didn't want her brother to end up completely dead, just like her mother all those year ago.

" _P-Papa killed ma-mama..._ " she remembered the girl telling her. 

She might not be completely right with her conclusion, but she knew she was right around the ballpark. 

Legally, Ming knew what she had to do. But there was a tiny voice gnawing at her, telling her that there was a grey area she needed to consider. Should she choose the lawful way, or should she consider the morally-conscious way?

Ming looked over at Azula, who had been looking at her with worry and fear all that time, and came to a decision. She went with the latter, putting her gun back into her holder.

The officer wordlessly picked up the bloody knife and went to the kitchen sink, washing the blood off. She rubbed off any dried blood with dish soap before reaching for the cabinet under the sink and grabbing a bleach solution. Ming knew she shouldn't mix chemicals, but there wasn't that much of a better way to get rid of DNA and evidence. She poured it over the knife and cleaned it thoroughly--tip to handle. Once she was sure the knife was clean enough to not be considered a murder weapon, she dried the knife off and searched the kitchen drawers for other knives.

"Azula," Ming called out, "Sweetie, where do you keep your other knives?"

Azula quietly pointed to a drawer, watching as the officer opened said drawer and hid the knife she cleaned under all the other knives. Once the drawer was closed, Ming took a deep breath in and crouched down in front of Azula, clutching the girl's shoudlers.

"Listen to me," Ming whispered sternly, "You did nothing wrong, sweetie, okay?"

She watched as the girl nodded, tears streaming down her small face.

Ming continued, "You did the right thing. I can see that. But no one else will, so can you do me a small favor?"

When Azula nodded again, Ming told her, "Don't tell anyone what really happened. If someone asks, tell them that saw your brother and father on the floor. Tell them that you don't know what happened. If they ask you why you're bloody, tell them you were trying to wake them up. Can you do that for me?"

The woman watched worriedly as the girl's eyes widened in surprise, but grew relieved when she quickly nodded back.

"Good," Ming sighed, "Okay. Pretend I'm someone asking you what happened. What do you say?"

When Azula spoke, her voice cracked. "I don't know."

Ming nodded. "Why don't you know?"

"I-I saw papa a-and Zuzu on the floor, b-but I don't know why."

"And why are your hands bloody?"

"B-Because I was t-trying to wake them up."

Ming nodded one last time before getting up. She patted Azula on her head and brought her close to her.

"Good job," Ming whispered, watching as the girl clung to her leg tightly. "You're going to be okay."

"Promise?" Azula asked, her voice muffled against Ming's pants.

The officer looked over at the dead man, finding herself glaring at his body.

She nodded absentmindedly. "I promise."

*********

Officer Ming knew that she could just pin the murder on another criminal. Sure, it was wrong-- _illegal even_ \--but that wasn't going to stop her. Besides, if she could recall correctly, there was already a fugitive murderer on the loose in Fire Nation territory. Murder was already a life sentence; what's another life sentence?

As Ming justified her actions in her mind, she met up the other officers and explained the 'situation' as was needed, telling them to call an ambulance for a burn victim. As the ambulance came, taking the boy (Zuko, if Ming could recall correctly) out on a stretcher and away to a nearby hospital, homicide detectives came to investigate. The detectives looked around the house, searching for a murder weapon or a suspect.

Or both.

Ming protectively held onto Azula as the girl clung to her leg, burying her face in the clothing. Some detectives tried to get her to tell them what she saw, but the girl wouldn't speak. Ming only told them what she told her officers: the girl found her family in the kitchen and tried to wake them up.

Eventually, the head detective came up to her and told her that Azula was needed for some light questioning. 

"We just need to know what she saw," he explained, "It could help us solve our case faster."

"The girl is a little shaken," Ming countered firmly. "Are you sure this is the best course of action?"

"We understand the trauma of the situation. All we ask is if she could come in for some questioning." The head detective paused before gently adding, "She doesn't have to be alone. You can be with her in the interrogation room. She seems to trust you, Officer Ming."

Ming pondered on the request. Legally, no one can force Azula to testify. 

But it would help her case. They could see how shaken she was.

They'd believe she was a victim.

Ming nodded. "I'll talk to her, detective."

"I appreciate that, officer. Thank you."

As the head detective turned and left, Ming reached down and patted the girl on her head comfortingly. The woman watched as the detectives rounded the house over and over again before filing out. She looked at the CAUTION tape surrounding the kitchen, peeking at the sliver of white cloth draped over Ozai's body.

Ming looked down at the girl clinging to her leg. She remembered the promise she made.

They'll get through this. She was sure they would.

Because Ming never broke a promise.

And she'd be damned if she broke that streak.

*********

Azula sat on an uncomfortable chair in a darkly lit room. In front of her was a detective and a glass window. She could see her reflection in it, but she couldn't see through it. The detective (he was nice, but scary) told her that there were other nice (but scary) detectives on the other side of the window.

Behind her stood Officer Ming. Through the window's reflection, Azula could see the woman gently smile at her. It reminded her of her mother.

"So, Azula," the detective spoke, grabbing her attention, "I'm going to record you. All you're going to do is answer a few questions. Is that alright?"

Azula nodded, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

"I need a verbal conformation." He smiled at her gently.

"Yes," she whispered.

Azula watched as the detective pressed the 'record' button on the tape in front of him.

"Detective Li speaking. This is Case Number 4387. The date is August 10. The time is currently 10:34 a.m." The detective looked over at Azula encouragingly. "Please state your full name and age."

"Um..." Azula fidgeted. "My name is Azula Sozin. I'm nine."

"When is your birthday, Azula?"

"The first day of November."

"Thank you," the detective smiled. "Now, I will question you about what happened yesterday, August 9. Are you ready to proceed?"

Azula nodded.

"I need a verbal confirmation."

"Yes." Azula cleared her throat, not liking how scratchy she sounded.

"Who was in the house that day?" the detective began.

Azula thought hard, trying to see if anyone else was in the house. "Um, just me, papa, and Zuzu."

"Who is Zuzu?"

"My brother. His name is Zuko, but I call him Zuzu."

"Alright," the detective proceeded. "That day, did you know that police showed up?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I opened the door. Ms. Ming was there."

"When did you open the door? Do you remember the time?"

"Um... I think maybe 8 o'clock? Or 7:30? I'm not sure..."

"Before that, your father opened the door. Police officers arrived at around 7 a.m. regarding a call about child neglect and endangerment."

Azula remained quiet.

The detective continued. "The officers, including Officer Ming, were there to check in with you and your brother. Your father opened the door and told those officers that they needed to come back with a search warrant. Do you know that this occurred?"

Azula shook her head. "No..."

"What were you doing during this time?"

"I was sleeping."

"Did you wake up at any point before you opened the door?"

"I woke up because..." Azula paused, trying to think of what to say. "...because I heard screaming."

"Screaming? Who was screaming?"

"Zuzu. Zuzu was screaming."

"Your brother? What was he screaming?"

Azula paused again. "He screamed that I had to wake up. He was screaming for help."

"And when you woke up, what did you do?"

"I went downstairs..." Azula stopped, looking down at her hands. She noticed how she started to wring them.

Just like her mother.

_Just like Zuzu._

"So you went downstairs," the detective went on, "What did you see?"

Azula looked up into the window reflection. She saw Officer Ming stare at her, smiling encouragingly.

The girl looked back at the detective. "Zuzu and papa were on the floor."

"What did you do when they were on the floor?"

"I went to go wake them up."

"Did they wake up?"

Azula shook her head. "No."

"Did you see anything else?"

Azula shook her head again. "I don't think so..."

The detective paused, looking at the girl. He looked down at the file placed in front of him. He knew he would have to bring up whatever was on the file at some point during this interrogation. 

"Azula," the detective sighed, almost regretting going forth with the questioning, "Do you know why your brother is in the hospital?"

"Is..." Azula's voice faltered. "...Is Zuzu dead?"

"No, he's alive... but..." The detective paused, putting his head in his hands, not knowing how to proceed.

How was he supposed to ask a nine-year-old...?

He sighed. "Azula, your brother is in the hospital for treatment for third degree burns on the left side of his face. Doctors have also found other... _traces..._ of abuse on him." He didn't want to elaborate the traces that were found. Looking down at the file in front of him, Detective Li almost wanted to gag. 

The amount of fractures, bruises, and scars found on the boy's body was pitiful. 

Not to mention the tests done for sexual abuse...

The detective turned back to the interrogation. "Do you know about any of these injuries?"

When Azula remained quiet, he shook his head. "Let me ask a different question. Did you father ever hit you?"

He watched as the girl shook her head slowly. "No..."

"Did your father ever..." The detective took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Did your father ever hit your brother?"

He watched as the girl's bottom lip quivered. When she burst out into tears, he concluded the interrogation and gestured over to Officer Ming. The said officer gathered Azula into her arms and led her out of the room, walking her over to a couch in the public seating area. The woman held the girl as she cried, trying to muffle out the loud wailing by hugging the girl tighter.

Eventually, Azula passed out--either from exhaustion or mental strain. Ming laid the girl across the couch, placing a spare blanket from the lost-and-found bin on top of her.

The interrogation was over.

*********

The first thing Zuko noticed when he regained some consciousness was how much pain he was in. He couldn't feel anything below his neck, but the pain was all concentrated at his face. For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

The pain was just so _sheering._

He told himself to take one breath in and one breath out, but even that seemed easier said than done. He tried to scream for help--or try to, at least. All that came out was a pained moan. He settled for trying to hear if anyone else was near him; maybe they could help.

All Zuko heard was a distant beeping noise. It pierced through his ears, intensifying a headache he didn't know existed. He tried to locate it--to try to turn it off--but he couldn't move. The only thing that turned his attention away from the beeping was the sound of a door opening. Light footsteps came closer to him before he felt something touch his face.

Zuko whimpered in pain. He tried his best to open his eyes. Bright lights hit him the minute he opened his right eye, and for the first time, he noticed the smell of antiseptics. He looked over at the hand and, through a blurry vision, saw the figure of a woman. She was unwrapping something from his face, which Zuko could only guess was gauze. 

"How are you doing?" she asked in a sweet voice. 

She must have noticed he was looking at her.

Before Zuko could answer, he felt his vision fade. His mind clouded with darkness as he passed out. 

After that day, Zuko found himself waking up more and more. Sometimes, there was a lady changing the gauze on his face (he didn't know why, but it must have been important if she did it so often). Other times, there was an older woman in a white coat reading over a file. They both asked him how he was doing, or if he needed anything. Zuko always passed out before he could answer, but he liked to see their smiles.

Their smiles reminded him of his mother.

Slowly, the boy picked up on his surroundings. Surely, he was in a hospital. He'd been there before, but it was all a distant memory. There were flowers on a small stand next to him--fire lilies, to be exact--as well as a note of some sorts. He had needles in his arms, which the woman in the white coat explained were for nutrition and blood. There was also a mask on his face, which was explained to be an oxygen mask. 

"You keep waking up and going back to sleep," the lady with the gauze told him when he tried to shuffle the mask away from his face. "You need to keep this on in case you run out of air."

He always went unconscious after a few minutes of being awake.

Even with the two women that entered his room, Zuko always felt alone. There was no one he knew; no one he cared for was with him. He felt himself start to lose his grip on reality every time he woke up. He was alone.

_So alone._

But at some point, he woke up and felt a hand grab his own. 

It was gentle. 

And small.

_Like Azula._

And one day, he gathered all of the energy in his body to turn his head towards the feeling of the small hand. Sure enough, there sat Azula--a blurry figure, but he knew that was her. He could make out how shocked she looked as he looked at her. With the last bit of energy he had, he squeezed her hand comfortingly. When she reciprocated, he smiled at her.

He knew his smile was weak.

But Zuko was happy.

At least now, he wasn't alone. At least his sister was with him.

The last thing he saw before he passed out again was a happy smile on Azula's face. 

*********

Azula watched as her brother faded in and out of sleep. She was too afraid to touch him; he already looked so frail on the hospital bed. Bandages covered his body, especially his face. The girl found herself looking away when the nurse came into the room to unwrap and change the gauze.

After a few times of watching Zuko open and close his right eye (the only side of his face that remained unbandaged and bare), Azula built up the courage to grab his hand. She held it gently, afraid that it would break under pressure. Zuko never looked at her before, and Azula worried he wouldn't notice her at all.

Azula stayed in her spot, sitting by his left side on a spare chair she pulled up to the hospital bed. Occasionally, she looked over at the door, smiling over at Officer Ming as she sat near the doorway. The woman always returned her smile, and even asked if she needed anything.

"Um..." Azula pondered, "May I please use the restroom?"

"You don't need to ask, sweetie," Ming reassured. "Do you need me to come with you?"

Azula shook her head and let go of Zuko's hand. She walked out of the room quietly, mindlessly wandering until she reached her destination. After taking care of her business, she walked back to her brother's room, noticing how the door was left a little ajar. When she went inside, she noticed that the nurse had come by to change the bandages again.

"Hello, Azula!" The nurse smiled when she saw her. "Do you know if Zuko woke up today?"

Azula shook her head, walking back to her seat next to Zuko's bed. "Not yet..."

The nurse cooed, reassuring her that Zuko would wake up sooner or later. Azula watched the nurse finish up her bandaging, making sure to look away at the sight of burnt skin when the gauze from his face was unraveled. When the nurse started to gather all the dirty gauze and leave the room, Azula stopped her.

"Ms. Nurse..." she asked, a little uncertain, "Do you know what day it is?"

"Hmm..." the nurse pondered. "...I believe it's August 15, if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

"No problem, sweetie!"

As the nurse exited the room, Azula looked back at Zuko. Today was his birthday. 

_And he still hadn't woken up._

Azula gently grabbed her brother's hand and started to play with his fingers. She didn't know when, but at some point, her gut told her to look up. When she looked at her brother, she was shocked to notice that he was awake.

He was looking at her. 

Azula felt Zuko squeeze her hand. She tried not to think about how weakly he held her hand and squeezed back. When he smiled at her, Azula felt herself internally cheer. She smiled back even wider, wanting to ask him how he was.

But before she could, he closed his eyes again.

She felt his hand go limp in her hold. Azula loosened her grasp and reached up to brush her brother's hair away from his face. As happy as she was that he finally looked at her ( _and smiled!_ ), she was still saddened at the fact that she hadn't been able to talk to him yet. Gloomily, she turned her head towards Officer Ming.

"Ms. Ming," she called out, "Zuzu woke up."

"Really?" The officer stood up from her chair and walked over to the girl. "Is he awake still?"

"No..." Azula paused, looking back over at her brother. "...But he smiled at me."

"That means he's getting better!"

"I know, but..." Another pause. "Ms. Ming?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" 

Azula sat in silence for a few moments before whispering, "Today is Zuzu's birthday."

Ming stood by the girl, silent as she could be. When the girl didn't continue, she headed toward the door.

"I'm going to the canteen." Ming turned to look at Azula. "Will you be okay on your own?"

Azula nodded, not once looking at Ming. She heard the front door open and close, leaving just her and her brother alone.

Azula stared at her brother's face, wondering when he would wake up. She counted to ten in her head, and when that didn't work, she held her breath in.

When all else failed, she sighed. "Zuzu, can you hear me?"

Zuko never answered, but it didn't stop Azula from talking to him.

"So, today's your birthday!" She laughed. "If you wake up, we can eat cake together! And maybe it's red velvet--your favorite! Or we can have vanilla and chocolate!" Azula waited for Zuko to talk, imagining how excited he would react. "You know, Ms. Ming--she's a police person lady--she said that we were gonna get a new home! She said that these Children Service people found out we have an uncle in Ba Sing Se! I never knew mama had a brother; maybe he's nice like her! I really hope he's not papa's brother. I don't want him to be mean." Azula paused, her voice wavering as she continued. "Ms. Ming said papa's dead. A-And the other police people are trying to find out why. S-So, could you please just--"

Azula stopped when she heard the door open. In walked Ming with a cupcake.

"They don't have any cake in the hospital," Ming laughed. "But I found a cupcake! I even found a little candle!"

The officer put the candle on the cupcake and lit it with a lighter she found in her pocket. She gave it to Azula and told her she would be standing outside.

"You seem to have something important to tell your brother," Ming explained. "I'll be outside if you need me, alright?"

As the woman walked out of the room, Azula looked over at the cupcake. She held it above their intertwined hands and smiled. 

"It's red velvet!" Azula cheered. "Look, Zuzu! You like red velvet, don't you?"

When her brother didn't answer, Azula hummed. 

"Happy birthday to you..." the girl softly sang. "Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to Zuzu..." Her voice wobbled, and she felt tears gather in her eyes. "H-Happy birthday to you..."

Azula watched her brother's face, waiting for him to wake up. She blew out the candle for him, imagining him being annoyed at her for taking his birthday wish. 

Deep down, Azula knew her brother could never be annoyed at her. She always blew out his birthday candles, and he always asked what she wished for.

He was never mad.

On the other hand, Azula thought back to all the times she directed her anger at Zuko. She remembered all the times she grew mad at him, even when he never deserved it.

The tears that collected in her eyes fell onto the cupcake's icing, but Azula could care less.

"Zuzu..." She sniffled. "Please wake up. If you wake up, I promise I'll be a better sister."

Zuko remained unconscious. 

"Please, Zuko..." Azula sobbed. "...I promise."

Zuko didn't open his eyes for the next six days. 

*********

On August 21, Zuko found himself fully regaining consciousness. There wasn't any exhaustion lingering in his mind. The foggy tiredness cleared away, and the first thing he felt was someone removing something from his face. He looked over to see a nurse--the same woman that changed his gauze.

"You're awake!" she greeted, smiling widely as she continued her work.

Zuko found himself wanting to respond, but didn't know what to say. He settled for a weak smile, which was returned by the nurse.

"Good news: you don't need any more bandages!" The nurse removed the last bit of gauze on his face and put it on a tray. "Now you don't have to worry about me bothering you!"

Zuko smiled wider, knowing that the nurse only wanted to cheer him up. He was honestly saddened that he might not see her anymore--she was nice, just like his mother.

But at least he didn't need bandages wrapped around his face anymore. He didn't know why the bandages were there in the first place, but at least they were gone now.

As the nurse picked up the tray and exited the room, he turned and saw Azula walk inside with another woman. He recognized her, but didn't know who she was.

"ZUZU!" Azula yelled, running up to him with the widest smile.

Zuko really didn't like how loud she was, but he couldn't find it in his heart to tell her to be quieter. She was really happy to see him. For the first time in a long time, the boy felt needed.

His heart swelled in joy. It practically burst when he saw his sister crawl up into his hospital bed and lie down next to him. The bed was big enough for both of them, but Zuko tried his best to inch to one side just to make room for his sister.

Against all well-meant protest from the woman in the room (who Zuko just realized was wearing a police uniform), Azula found herself snuggling up to her brother--making sure to avoid the needles and wires strapped to his body.

"You're awake!" Azula cheered, looking up at him. "How are you feeling?"

"G..." Zuko groaned.

His throat was so scratchy. He needed water. 

"Hello Zuko," the woman said, grabbing the boy's attention. "I'm Officer Ming."

Officer Ming.

He remembered her. Back when he was eight, she was at the police station.

Zuko smiled at her, trying to show that he remembered her. Ming returned the smile for a small fraction of a second before dropping it.

"Now that you're awake, I have some important things to discuss with you." There was no way around it; it needed to be said. "You've been unconscious for twelve days--though you _have_ been waking up in some parts of the twelve day period. During that time, a lot has changed, and it is my legal duty to let you know."

She paused, watching the boy's face become worried, before she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "Your father is dead. His cause of death is linked to murder, though everyone is still trying to find the murderer. You were hospitalized and believed to be subjected as a victim to the murderer's scheme. Since your father has passed, Fire Fountain Child Services contacted extended family and reached out to your uncle. You and your sister will be moved to Ba Sing Se to live with him. Before that can happen, you need to come to the police station for some questioning. I'll fill you in about the questioning later, but-- Zuko...? Zuko?! Zuko!"

Zuko started to cough, finding it harder to breathe. He grew more and more overwhelmed with the information, finding it hard to process all at once.

He felt hands grab his own, holding them firmly. Zuko realized he was trying to take his mask off, only to be stopped. He tried to pull his hands away from the ones that grabbed them, wanting to scratch at his chest. 

The air was stuck there.

He needed to get it out.

In the midst of his panic, he heard a small voice close to his right ear. "... _in_..."

The boy focused the best he could on that voice. It kept him grounded, providing a small anchor in the whirlwind his mind was under. 

Soon enough, he could make out the words. 

_"Breathe in... and out... I said out, Zuzu, not in! ...Good, now in again... and out... and in... and out..."_

Azula. It was Azula.

Zuko focused on her voice. He focused on his breathing. 

And eventually, he came to. 

Azula was holding him tightly, cradling him and rocking him back and forth. She was whispering in his ear, telling him to keep breathing before reassuring him that he was okay. That he was safe. 

"I'm here," she soothed. "I'm here. I promise. I'm not leaving. I'm here."

He felt a sob bubbling out of his throat, ripping out before he could stop it. Azula only held him tighter, and for once, not one of his injuries hurt.

It was as if the wounds and scars that Ozai inflicted were gone.

All that was replaced was a hollow feeling left in his heart.

And somehow, it was way worse.

Zuko didn't realize that Officer Ming went out of the room until she came back with the same nurse that changed his gauze. She was holding a syringe in her hand, frantically running over to the boy's side.

Zuko watched as the nurse rolled up his hospital shirt sleeve and disinfected his upper arm. He looked away when she inserted the syringe in, cringing as he felt the substance spread within him. When the nurse took out the syringe and put a small bandaid on his arm, he started feeling number.

"I gave him a small dose of a sedative," the nurse explained to Ming, a little out of breath. "He should be feeling calmer in a few moments."

But Zuko didn't feel calmer.

He kept growing number, and he didn't know if that was the implied effect.

As he started to move away from his panic, he felt salty tears drip down his face. They landed on Azula's shirt--all because she was still holding him--but he couldn't bring himself to care. He would usually worry about staining her clothes, but in that moment...

He was just numb.

Very numb.

 _Papa died_ , a dark voice chimed in.

He waited for the lighter, little voice to counter.

 _It's all your fault,_ the darker voice continued. _You told him you hated him. You might as well have wished death upon him._

Zuko closed his eyes, trying to find the lighter, little voice.

 _Maybe if you were a better son, or a better brother, your family would still be together,_ the darker voice mused. _But now look. Look at what you did. It's all your fault. Again. How will you tell Azula that it's all your fault? She's just going to get mad at you. You deserve it._

Zuko shook his head, trying to get the bad thoughts out. He felt his chin rub against Azula's shirt, realizing that she was still holding him--whispering to him.

He tried to concentrate on what she was saying. She was telling him how she would never leave him. She was telling him how he was the best brother in the world. She was telling him--

 _She's lying. Azula always lies,_ the dark voice hissed. _When she finds out how you ripped this family apart, she's going to leave. Just like your mother. You think she's going to stay? Stay for someone so weak and unlucky? No, she won't._

Zuko kept wishing for the lighter, little voice to pop in. He needed to hear it just once.

Just once. Please.

When it didn't chime in, Zuko felt himself growing number. He felt as though he was falling into a never-ending black hole, where no amount of screaming could help him.

Wordlessly, he leaned away from Azula's embrace, feeling her hesitate to let him go. He settled back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He didn't deserve any sympathy or special treatment.

He ripped his family apart.

 _This is all your fault,_ the dark voice reminded him.

Zuko agreed, refusing to deny something he found himself coming to terms with.

*********

Zuko wasn't sure how much time passed. He kept staring at the ceiling, leaning away from every little comforting touch Azula tried to give him. At one point, he gave up, letting the girl curl into his right side and grab his hand. He felt her play with his fingers gently, and he hated every minute of it.

He didn't hate Azula, no.

But he hated how _gentle_ she was being with him.

He didn't deserve it.

The door opened, grabbing what little attention Zuko had left within his numb void. In walked an older woman with the white coat--the same one he remembered seeing while he was fading in and out of consciousness.

"Hello!" she greeted. "I am Dr. Yugoda!"

Zuko didn't answer back. He didn't even smile.

"I heard from Nurse Lyn that you were awake! How are you doing?"

Zuko stayed silent. He watched as the Dr. Yugoda's bright smile faded slightly, replaced with a gentler worried smile.

"So... I'll brief you on your treatment so far!" she continued, trying to sound just as cheerful as before. "You'll be able to leave tomorrow morning! You have fractures on multiple parts of your body, but they'll be completely fine in a couple of weeks! Just make sure you don't stress out your body too much. As for the burn on your face..."

Zuko's attention snapped at that. Burn? What burn?

"...I'm sorry, sweetie, but the burn damaged your left eye and ear. You're not completely visually impaired, but things will be blurry. As for your ear, I'd recommend a hearing aid. You're not completely deaf; you just need a little boost to hear things!" 

Zuko remembered the burn. His father burned him.

His _father_ burned him.

 _Papa burned you because you deserved it,_ the dark voice said. 

It was at that moment that Zuko realized he couldn't see or hear properly from his left side. How could he have missed that? What else were the bandages for?

He sighed, settling for just listening to the doctor.

"Now, in terms of the scarring.." Dr. Yugoda flipped through a chart she was holding. "It seems that your scars and wounds on your back, arm, legs, and stomach will fade over time! Although some won't fade completely, they'll be less noticeable as they go. I'd give it two years, in the latest! But the one on your face--the scar from the burn--it will most likely be permanent. I've cited the scar to be from a third degree burn, so if you ever want to have it faded, I'd consider skin surgery in the future. You're still young, so I'd suggest waiting for a few years before you think about surgery."

She then turned to Ming. "Officer, could you please leave the room for a minute? i need to speak with the patient alone on private matters."

Ming nodded. "Of course."

"Do I have to go, too?" Azula asked, sitting up on the hospital bed.

Dr. Yugoda nodded grimly. "It would be best if I spoke to your brother alone."

"Is Zuzu okay?"

"He's as okay as he can be, sweetie. Don't worry."

As Azula left with Ming, Dr. Yugoda closed the door before coming closer to Zuko. The boy watched as she set her chart on the end of his hospital bed. She walked to his side and sat on the chair left by Azula. 

"Zuko, I need to ask you something very important, alright?" she gently told him, keeping her voice steady. 

The boy turned over to face the doctor--numb as can be.

"Sweetie, do you know what it means for a person to touch you in a wrong way?" she asked.

Zuko pondered that question. His mind felt blank.

"Let me rephrase," she sighed. "Has anyone ever touched you in a way you didn't like?"

The boy's mind drifted off to his father. He didn't like how much his father hit him.

 _But you deserved it,_ the dark voice reminded him. _He was just trying to make you a better son._

His mind then drifted off to Zhao-- _Uncle Zhao._ He didn't like the way that man touched him either.

It just felt... wrong.

 _But remember,_ the dark voice mused. _You deserved it. Uncle Zhao surely had a good reason._

He looked at the doctor and nodded.

"Nurse Lyn and I found a few... _injuries..._ on you and did a test on you." Dr. Yugoda paused, trying to come up with a way to say her next words. "It's called a Rape Kit test. Do you know what that is?"

Zuko shook his head. He didn't know.

"...Do you know what rape is? Sexual assault?"

Zuko shook his head again.

Dr. Yugoda reached over and grabbed the chart she left on the bed. After flipping through, she turned to Zuko.

"Your birthday passed!" she cheered gently. "So that means you're twelve?"

Zuko nodded.

"And, if I am correct, you've already been through sixth grade."

Zuko nodded again.

"And--I'm assuming you've been to school in Fire Fountain City--you've covered a Sexual Education unit in your class. Do you know what consent is?"

Zuko nodded once more.

"...Has someone touched you without consent?"

His mind drifted off to Zhao. He gave another nod.

"Okay," the doctor sighed. "Nurse Lyn and I found some evidence of someone touching you without consent. We collected DNA and stored it. I was wondering if... you'd tell me... who it was."

He didn't answer. He just stared.

"Zuko, sweetie, what happened was illegal. I need to know who did it so that I can tell the police. That kind officer with your sister needs to know so that she can help you."

Zuko turned away from the doctor, staring up at the ceiling. After a while, he heard the doctor sigh and get up. He heard her exit his room, only for his sister and Officer Ming to come inside. He felt his sister climb into his bed, trying to ask what the doctor talked to him about.

He stayed silent. 

He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. 

He heard his sister sigh and felt her snuggle into him again, grabbing his hand into hers. He heard a few shuffles across the room, and he heard his sister talk to Officer Ming about what she wanted to eat from the canteen.

No matter how hard he tried to sleep, he couldn't. His mind was keeping him teetering off of an edge he didn't know existed.

Zuko knew the doctor meant well. He knew she was trying to help.

But even she didn't understand that he deserved everything that happened to him.

Everything was always his fault.

There was no reason to blame another person.

_There was no reason to blame Zhao._

*********

The next morning, Officer Ming checked Zuko out of the hospital. While she was at the front desk signing his medical release forms, Azula stayed in Zuko's hospital room. She worked her hands through his hair, trying to detangle the knots that twisted his locks. 

Zuko winced for the seventh time when she pulled on a tangle too hard.

"Oops," she muttered, getting annoyed at the mess of her brother's hair. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Zuko said, wincing as she pulled on yet another tangle.

It took a while, but eventually Azula hummed satisfactorily. She then pulled her brother's hair back and grabbed a hairband on her wrist. As she secured his now-untangled hair into a ponytail, she filled him in on what Ming had told her early that morning.

"Remember how we have an uncle in Ba Sing Se?" She waited for Zuko to nod before continuing, "Well, Ms. Ming said that he's really nice! She said he likes tea! I don't like tea 'cause it tastes bad, but mama liked tea! So I'm guessing he's mama's brother, or cousin or something. I think his name is Ire...? Uroh? I wasn't paying attention, but I know that he likes tea!"

Zuko pondered on what Azula told him. His father hated tea with every fiber of his being. Logically, his uncle wouldn't be related to Ozai. His uncle would have to come from a family that loved to drink tea.

When Ming came back to Zuko's hospital room, she told the two children that it was time to leave. She helped Zuko steady himself and walk. Dr. Yugoda said that the boy really didn't need crutches or a wheelchair; he should be fine to walk on his own. He walked just fine yesterday when Nurse Lyn helped him up for a small evaluation. 

As the trio walked out of the hospital, bidding farewell to the hospital staff as they walked by (it was mostly just Azula bidding farewell, but Zuko and Ming joined in a few times), they got into Ming's police car. Their first stop was to the Fire Fountain Child Protective Services Department, where Azula had been staying when she had to leave the hospital. They ran a foster care there, making sure the children that came by had all that they needed.

Ming walked Azula into the building, leaving Zuko in the car. He waited for Ming to come back, and once she did, they drove straight to the police station. Along the way, Ming filled Zuko in on what he needed to know. 

"It's said your father was murdered," she explained, looking over at the boy from her rear-view mirror. "No one knows who did it, but we'll catch him soon."

Zuko perked up. "Him?"

"Ah, well..." Ming cleared her throat. "The detectives think that it's a man named Yon Rha. He's wanted for murdering another person in the Southern Water Tribe. We suspect he's the one who killed your father and left you scarred."

Ming didn't know if she should be telling a _child_ any of this--much less a child part of a case. In hindsight, it surely seemed illegal to sabotage an interrogation.

But she needed to protect Azula.

"But..." Zuko spoke up, "...My papa burned me."

Ming arrived at the station. She found a parking spot and shut the car's engine off.

She turned around to face Zuko. "I know, but..." She sighed. "...Could you do me a favor?"

Zuko nodded, a bit hesitant and confused.

"Please just say that you saw a guy burn you and kill your father. Don't mention your father hurting you. Don't mention me telling you any of this information." She paused before adding a small, "Please?"

Zuko looked at her--an officer of the law. His brain short circuited.

Why did she want him to lie?

"It's for a good reason," she pleaded. "Please, just trust me. I promise it's for a good reason."

Zuko found himself nodding, although he was a bit unsure of himself.

He was bad liar.

Now he was supposed to lie to a detective--someone that was about to interrogate him?

He saw Ming step out of the car before opening the side door and helping Zuko out. They walked into the police station, stopping at the front desk to tell the clerk they were there for questioning on the recent murder case.

"Just go down the hall," the clerk pointed out. "Sergeant Jet is waiting in the interrogation room."

"Sergeant Jet?" Ming questioned. "I thought Detective Li was in charge of questioning."

"He was," the clerk explained, shrugging. "He still is, by an extension. But the sergeant wants to question the boy for some reason. He said it was for a good reason, but never said what the good reason was."

"Okay," Ming sighed. "Okay, cool. That's weird, but cool."

"...Is something wrong, officer?"

"Nope!" Ming smiled at the clerk, tugging Zuko towards the interrogation room. "We'll be on our way. Thank you."

Ming walked Zuko toward the room, stopping at the door. She reluctantly bid him farewell, telling him that she would be just outside the door if he needed her. As Zuko opened the door, he heard a man tell him to come in. The boy looked up at Ming one last time before heading inside, closing the door behind him. 

"Zuko," Sergeant Jet greeted. "Come have a seat."

Zuko remembered that man. He was the one that dismissed his mother's case.

His gut twisted. Suddenly, it felt like something was wrong.

Zuko walked over and sat down on a chair, facing the sergeant across a table. He watched as the man pulled out a file.

"How are you, Zuko?" Jet asked.

The boy cleared his throat nervously. "I'm okay."

"Just okay? Not good? Excellent? Happy? You're alive, aren't you?"

Zuko didn't answer. He gulped, feeling a lump form in his throat.

"It's odd, isn't it?" Jet laughed, looking over at the boy. "Your father is dead-- _murdered_ , to be specific. And all you got was a burn?"

Zuko stared at Jet. He started to wring his hands together under the table, not knowing why he felt so nervous-- _so anxious._

"And where was your sister during all of this?" Jet continued. "Why wasn't she harmed?"

Zuko grew more and more anxious, and he didn't know why.

_What did Sergeant Jet want?_

"In hindsight, it all points to murder. A murder of a powerful individual--one that was higher up in society and had control over a company." As Jet explained, he looked over at Zuko in amusement. "I know I shouldn't be telling a stupid kid like you any of this information, but you have to know the bigger picture."

"W-What..." Zuko stuttered. "W-What do you m-mean?"

"About three years ago, a man named Yon Rha murdered a woman named Kya. She was part of the Southern Water Tribe, and married a man named Hakoda. They ran a multi-million-yuan business, and were partnered with several other multi-million-yuan businesses. Yon Rha wanted to kill the head of the company--Hakoda. But his wife got in the way and told Yon Rha she was the head, which led her to death. The way it's set up, it seems that Yon Rha wanted to find the head of the company of another multi-million-yuan business, Firelord Industries. What _may have happened_ was that Yon Rha snuck into your home, murdered your father, and wanted to leave. But then he saw you, so he tried to kill you. Is that what happened, Zuko?"

The boy stayed still. He didn't know how to answer.

"But here's the thing..." Jet countered himself, opening up the file near him. "Why did Yon Rha hurt _you_?"

"B-Because... I saw h-him...?" Zuko offered, still unsure. Was it a mind game?

"Is that so?" Jet asked, taking out a piece of paper from the file. As he slid it over to Zuko, he mused, "Then I wonder why he didn't hurt the daughter of Kya and Hakoda..."

Zuko stared at the paper. He realized it was a police report.

"You see," Jet explained, "When Yon Rha broke into Hakoda's home, he first ran into their daughter. When she ran away, he followed her and found Kya. The daughter saw it all happen, but not once was she hurt. Sure, she's traumatized, but she was never _physically_ harmed. She was right there, as the report says, but Yon Rha just let her go. Why was it that _you_ were physically harmed?"

Zuko dug his nails into his arm. He didn't know how to answer.

He didn't even know what was going on.

"Do you want to tell me what actually happened?" Jet asked.

Zuko cowered in his seat. "I-I don't k-know..." He wanted to cry.

"You don't know? You don't want to tell me?"

The boy sniffled. "I-I don't know w-what h-happened."

"Oh right!" Jet smiled. "You were _unconscious_! Then let me explain: Officer Ming lied to our detectives."

Officer Ming? Why did she lie?

Did she want Zuko to lie because she lied? Did she want to cover up something important?

"At the start of the investigation," Jet explained, "It was clear that it was a murder. Officer Ming let every detective think that the murderer had fled the scene with the murder weapon. At first, even I believed it! But then we looked at your hospital records."

Zuko felt the need to clear his throat.

"So many traces of abuse... We got a call three days before the murder about a case of child neglect and endangerment. From our first knock to our second knock at your front door-- _in the span of roughly thirty minutes_ \--the case goes from doing a small wellness-check to becoming a full murder investigation. So, I sent the detectives back. Lo and behold, we found this..." Jet pulled out a knife from under the desk and placed it on the table. "...the murder weapon. Sanitized in cleaning bleach. We had forensic researchers uncover DNA and found your father's blood, Officer Ming's fingerprints, and your sister's fingerprints. It was pretty hard to find the DNA, considering how well the knife was cleaned, but small amounts were traced anyways. Do you know what this means?"

Zuko shook his head, shaking in his seat. He was scared-- _so scared._

"It means your father was murdered by someone in the house. Officer Ming found out and, for some reason, cleaned the murder weapon and hid it. Now, it couldn't have been you. You were unconscious, and doctors estimated that you were unconscious around ten minutes before Ozai's death. You couldn't have killed your father, so who else could have done it? Who else was at home during the time?"

Zuko's blood ran cold. 

"Your sister, Azula. She was at home. Her fingerprints were on the handle of the knife. She killed your father." Jet grabbed the knife and put it under the desk. "And she even had a motive to do so. What better way to help her brother get away from abuse than to get rid of the abuser. She killed your father to protect you."

The twelve-year-old felt the need to throw up. He couldn't think of his sister as a murderer. It didn't make sense.

Sergeant Jet was lying.

Azula was not a murderer.

Azula was a _child._ She was his _sister._ She couldn't be a _murderer._

"Here's what's going to happen," Jet concluded. "I have all the evidence I need to close this investigation. Your sister will go to a rehabilitation center and be assessed on her mental competence, or maybe even a juvenile center for her crimes. Point is: she will be sent far away from you. Officer Ming will lose her job and become known as an accomplice. She will be charged for covering up a murder. She might even go to jail. You will go to Ba Sing Se and live with your uncle, and if all goes well, you won't have to worry about being charged with anything. Does that sound good?"

Zuko sat in his chair silently. It all made sense. Was that why Officer Ming wanted him to lie? Was she protecting Azula?

This wasn't Azula's fault. 

She wouldn't have killed Ozai if Zuko wasn't in the way. He tore up his family.

_He made Azula kill Ozai._

"Or..." the sergeant wondered, "...I could make a deal with you."

Zuko perked up. A deal?

"I could protect your sister--maybe make it seem like she didn't murder anyone. I could help Officer Ming keep her job--pretend like I don't know anything. I could destroy the evidence. Your sister won't go to jail. Officer Ming won't lose her job. You'll be together with your sister. Would you like that?"

Zuko nodded, not once hesitating over his decision. He needed to protect Azula.

"Would you do anything for this deal to work?" Jet asked.

Zuko nodded again. Yes, he would do anything.

"Well, there's one thing I want from you." Jet closed the file and put it to the side. "I spoke with someone you know. He says he's your father's friend. Zhao: does he ring any bells?"

Zuko's heart stopped.

It all clicked: what the sergeant wanted, what the deal would be, what he needed to do.

_That was..._

_No..._

**CW: rape/sexual assault of a minor**

"He told me that you _really good_ at what you did." Jet got up from his chair and walked around the table, standing next to where Zuko sat. "And it seems like you know what you need to do right now." 

Zuko's mind went blank. He felt the sergeant's hands on his head, pulling at the hairband. The ponytail Azula took so long to secure came apart; his loose black locks fell across his shoulders.

"Be a good boy," Jet muttered. "If anything, at least do this for your sister."

Zuko heard the sergeant unzip his pants, pulling out his dick. He felt the man's hand tangle into his hair, bringing his face closer. Almost instinctively, the boy opened his mouth and sucked. The man above him groaned.

 _"Good boy."_ Another groan. _"Just like that. Fuck, you were made for this."_

Zuko hated it. He hated every second of it.

He just wanted it to be over.

 _But you deserve it,_ the dark voice retaliated. _You got Azula into this mess. You have to get her out of it, too. It's your fault._

The sergeant's voice interrupted the darker thoughts of Zuko's mind.

 _"Fuck, I'm gonna cum."_

Zuko took it and swallowed. That was what Zhao-- _Uncle Zhao_ \--taught him. He didn't know any other 'acceptable' way. Sergeant Jet seemed to like what he did, since he laughed and pulled himself out. He let go of Zuko's hair and fixed himself up. Once he was straightened out, he grabbed the hairband he set on the table and pulled the boy's hair back into its original ponytail.

"Perfect," Jet mused. "Like a dirty little doll."

The sergeant went over to his chair and picked up the file and knife. He walked over to the shredder across the room and disposed of the file. He tucked the knife into one of his spare belt holsters and walked back to the boy.

He grabbed the boy's chin and forced him to make eye contact, getting annoyed when the boy's eyes started shifting. "Now, one time won't really convince me. I can always just print out another copy of the report."

**NOTE: end of rape/sexual assault of a minor**

When the twelve-year-old still didn't look at him, Jet growled and wrapped his had around the boy's throat. "Fucking look at me, you stupid little shit. Like I was saying, I'm going to be visiting you in Ba Sing Se for a few 'wellness checks'. You _will_ do what I want you to do. And if anyone finds out, I'll send your sister so far away that you won't even know if she's dead or alive. No contact, got it?"

He watched Zuko nod, still looking away. Jet cursed and let go of the boy, telling him to get out of the room. As Zuko left, Jet straightened up the interrogation room. Once he made sure everything was put back in place, he turned for the door.

Outside, he saw Officer Ming talk to Zuko--or try to talk, at least. The boy wasn't responding, instead looking down at the ground, and the worried look on Ming's face only made things seem unnecessarily troubling--at least in Jet's opinion. He sighed and walked over to the two, getting the officer's attention as he came forward. 

"Officer Ming," Jet said, "Gather other officers with you and use the detectives' work to track down Yon Rha. We have enough evidence to arrest him for murder."

"Yes, sir." Ming turned around before stopping. "But... what about Zuko?"

"What about him?"

"He needs to be brought to the Fire Fountain Child Protective Services Department. Him and his sister will be sent to Ba Sing Se in a few hours."

Ming saw Jet put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. Perhaps she was seeing things, but she could have sworn she saw the boy flinch.

"Don't worry," the sergeant reassured. "I'll take Zuko to the department myself right now. Just go arrest the suspect."

She was relieved. Her plan worked, didn't it? She kept her promise to Azula. As she went to gather more officers with her, she couldn't help but think about Zuko. 

There was something about his face that felt so... dead. So helpless. So numb.

Perhaps the boy just felt bad about lying. He seemed to have a good heart on him; maybe lying made him morally guilty. 

Perhaps it was repressed memories that ate at the boy. Maybe he was forced to remember something he didn't want to.

Ming quickened her pace when she felt a raw thought nag at her. 

Did the sergeant hurt the boy?

She remembered reading Zuko's hospital report. There wasn't anything on the report that she hadn't seen before, but she still pitied Zuko. 

Sure, Sergeant Jet wasn't the best superior. Sure, he took bribes and worked his way through corrupt systems. And sure, he was dismissive of some crimes here and there.

But he wouldn't go so far as to hurt a child, would he?

...Would he?

*********

**CW: mentions of rape/sexual assault of a minor**

Jet left Zuko in the waiting area, telling him to stay put while he went to go make a call. He had the front desk clerk watch over him, telling him that he wouldn't be gone for long. The sergeant walked to his private office, closing and locking his door. He pulled out his personal phone and tapped on a contact. The line rang until the other person picked up.

" _Hello?_ " a man called.

"You were right," Jet laughed. "The boy does wonders with his mouth."

The other man laughed alongside him. " _I'm glad you enjoyed, sergeant._ "

"I wish I had time to explore, if you know what I mean." Jet tsked. "I bet he's tight as hell."

" _Of course he is_ ," the other man grumbled. " _Why do you think I kept him for so long?_ "

"He seems like the perfect toy."

" _Oh, he is. He will be._ " A pause. " _He's getting there. I wish I had more time to shape him better._ "

"I can always take you with me to Ba Sing Se. I have to do these useless wellness checks, but at least I can make it more enjoyable. I'll have you visit as a 'concerned family friend', if you'd like."

" _I'll take you up on that offer!_ " The other man stopped for a laugh before asking, " _So... about the deal..._ "

"Yon Rha is going to jail. We have enough evidence to convict him. He won't be touching you any time soon."

" _Does anyone know I sent him to go after that water tribe family business?_ "

"No one will know." Jet paused. "I'll make sure of it."

" _Thank you, sergeant._ "

"No worries, sir."

" _Have a good day._ "

"You too, Zhao."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone's words from the last update! It means a lot to me, and it really boosted my confidence! I'm glad you enjoy this story (as gruesome as it is), and I hope you like the next updates!!
> 
> Thank you for your support! And thank you for reading!! <3


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was twelve when CPS took him and his sister away, only to give them over to be under Iroh's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: child abuse, rape/sexual assault of a minor, pedophilia, mentions of death and suicide, panic attacks

**CW: some descriptions of rape/sexual assault of a minor**

Jet walked out of his office and headed to the waiting area. He thanked the front desk clerk for keeping an eye on Zuko before going over and grabbing the boy. The man dragged the child behind him, walking outside and to the parking lot. Jet fished out his car keys and unlocked the car doors, pulling Zuko with him until they reached their designated car. Zuko hurried and tried to climb into the backseat, only to be pulled away.

"Nope," Jet laughed, an unpleasant smirk on his face. "You get to sit in the front with me."

The sergeant opened the front passenger side door and shoved the boy inside, telling him to put on his seat belt. He watched as the child fumbled with the belt--his small hands shaking from what Jet could only conclude were nerves. The man tsked and leaned into the car, grabbing the seat belt from the boy's hands and fastening it himself. 

"There you go, fucking baby," Jet muttered, leaning back out of the car and shutting the passenger side door. 

He walks over to the driver side door, getting into the car and starting the engine. It was a fifteen minute drive to the Fire Fountain Child Protective Services Department on a normal route--one that headed straight to the destination without much hassle. Jet, on the other hand, rounded the corner and turned the opposite direction, opting to take a longer way. He missed turns and stops, knowing that it would take another ten minutes to get there. As he drove, he took one hand off of the steering wheel and reached over, resting his hand on Zuko's thigh.

"Keep still," Jet grumbled when he felt the boy start to fidget. 

He felt the twelve-year-old's leg twitch, but the rest of his body stilled. While keeping his eyes focused on the road, Jet silently smirked and moved his hand between the boy's legs. He kept it there for the rest of the ride, occasionally moving it to rub against the boy. As they neared the department, Jet started hearing light sniffles near him. He turned his head and saw the boy silently shedding tears.

He dropped his smirk. "Stop crying." 

When Zuko didn't stop, Jet angrily moved his hand away from the boy's legs and reached towards the still-healing burn on his face. He roughly pinched a piece of skin near the child's eye and twisted, earning him a painful howl. 

But it didn't stop the tears.

The boy just cried harder.

"Fucking crybaby," Jet scoffed, pulling into the department's parking lot and parking the car.

He shut off the car's engine and got out, walking over to Zuko's side and unbuckling the boy's seat belt. He yanked the boy out by his arm, not once caring at how loud he was crying. The two went into the building--Jet dragging Zuko in by his arm--and walked to the front desk.

"Is... Is he okay?" the receptionist asked, pointing to the crying boy pressing down on his burn.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, don't worry about it." Jet dismissively waved. "This is the Sozin boy from the murder case. His sister is here--"

"Oh!" the receptionist interrupted, leaning over her counter. "Hello, you must be Zuko!"

As she reached over, offering her hand to the boy for a small handshake, Jet sighed. "Yeah, Zuko. So his sister--"

"Sweetie, why are you crying?" the receptionist asked. "Is it your face? Is your face hurting?"

"Look, lady," Jet sneered. "The boy is fine. He touched his face and irritated the burn. Just get him an ice pack or something. Can you just get his sister here?"

The receptionist looked up at the sergeant, glaring intensely. "Sure," she smiled mockingly. "Just wait here, _officer._ "

"I'm a sergeant--" Jet tried to correct, only to notice that the receptionist had walked away from him. 

He cursed, looking down at Zuko. He tightened his hold on the boy's arm and roughly shook him, threatening that he wouldn't hesitate to put him over his knee if he didn't stop crying. 

To Jet, it didn't sound like a bad idea.

And he was about to do it.

But the receptionist came back with an ice pack, a little girl, and a social worker.

"So, _officer_ ," the receptionist mocked, "This is Ms. Smellerbee. She has been taking care of Azula for the time being. She'll go through the formalities with you, so please be _patient_ and _understanding_ , alright?"

Jet resisted the urge to knock the receptionist out with his bare fists. Instead, he turned over to Ms. Smellerbee and stuck out his hand, offering her a handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said as brightly as he could.

Ms. Smellerbee shook the sergeant's hand gracefully. "Likewise. Shall we get started on the paperwork?"

Jet nodded and started to follow the social worker, who had begun walking back to where she came from with Azula. He hadn't gotten far before he heard the receptionist's voice.

"Wait!" she called out, running over to Zuko with the ice pack. "Here, sweetie! For your eye!"

Zuko took the ice pack gratefully and whispered a small 'thank you' to her, starting to calm down a bit. Jet grumbled and tugged the boy along, ignoring the glare the receptionist sent him.

God, he hated her guts.

He followed Smellerbee down a set of corridors until they reached a small office. All four filed inside.

"Please have a seat," Smellerbee said, gesturing to the chairs she had set up. 

Jet pulled Zuko into a chair next to him, putting the boy in between him and his sister. Smellerbee took a seat in her desk chair and dug through a file cabinet, searching for a folder. Once she found it, she pulled it out and gathered the necessary paperwork.

"So," she began, "I'm assuming you are the officer in charge?"

"Yes," Jet answered before correcting, "I'm the sergeant, actually."

"Of course," Smellerbee apologized. "My apologies for mistitling you."

"That's alright." 

"But like I was saying," the social worker moved on, "Since you are the sergeant in charge of this case, I need you to sign a few documents. Most are just stating that you know where the children are going, you know what happened to them, and you know that they are part of an ongoing case. I also have a document stating that you will be the one doing wellness checks on their new home and guardian for as many days as you seem fit. And then there's a few documents that I need you to sign off on regarding their citizenship and acknowledgement of changes in address." She gathered said documents in her hand and slid them over to Jet, along with a pen. "You're welcome to read through them as you please."

Jet thanked the social worker and skimmed through the papers, signing them off one-by-one. As he did so, he heard Azula softly talking to Zuko, asking him how he was feeling and why he was holding the ice pack. Once he was finished, he passed the documents back to Smellerbee.

"Thank you, sergeant," she said, gathering the papers and stamping them as official forms.

"Do I need to bring documents with me for their new guardian to sign off on?" Jet asked.

"Ah, no. We contacted their new guardian a few days ago, and he signed off on all the necessarily paperwork already. Zuko and Azula are officially under legal guardianship of their uncle. We also did a few housing and stability checks, and it's safe to say that these kids will be going to their new home soon."

"How soon?"

"Today, if that's possible." Smellerbee dug through her filing cabinet and pulled out a sealed envelope. "This contains all their new identifications and passports. We also put in their birth certificates and other important documents." She then took out three tickets from the folder and passed them to Jet. "You'll find three registered plane tickets to Ba Sing Se. Just show them to the flight attendants and they'll book you the very next flight once you arrive."

Jet got up, grabbing the envelope and tickets in one hand and clutching Zuko's arm in another. "Thank you, ma'am!"

"No problem." Smellerbee got up from her chair and went to the back of her room, pulling out two suitcases. "These are all the things we found that belong to Azula and Zuko. They'll be taking these things with them."

"I helped pack!" Azula exclaimed, clearly happy that she aided the social workers.

"Indeed," Smellerbee smiled. "She has been very helpful."

Azula went over and tugged at the two suitcases, rolling them. She didn't want to burden her brother; he already had an ice pack and seemed to be in a bit of pain at the moment. As the sergeant and the children walked out of Smellerbee's office (the social worker had bid them farewell and luck on their journey), Azula rolled the two suitcases with an abundant amount of determination. She walked behind the two boys, slightly jogging as they made it to a car. 

Jet turned and grabbed the two suitcases from Azula, putting them in the trunk of his car. As he did so, he let go of Zuko's arm. The boy absentmindedly tried to climb into the front passenger seat, only to be stopped by his sister.

"Sit with me!" she beamed. "I'm sure Mr. Jet won't mind! Please?"

Zuko looked over at Jet, seeing him walk over to the driver side seat. He quickly nodded and climbed into the backseat with his sister, almost dropped the ice pack. As he closed the door, he could see Jet look at him through the rear-view mirror, glaring. Zuko felt scared.

But this time, he didn't struggle with the seat belt. 

The car soon took off. The nearest airport was in Caldera City, located out of Fire Fountain City. It was a ninety-minute-drive, but it didn't seem to bother the children. The siblings (mostly just Azula) talked to each other, whispering and giggling every so often. Zuko mostly stayed quiet--content enough just listening to the tales his sister told him. As they arrived to their destination, Azula started to bounce in her spot.

Jet parked the car and shot a glance behind him, watching as a very eager Azula jumped out of the car the minute it stopped. He then looked over at Zuko, keeping his glare. The boy stayed in his spot, petrified. 

"Why didn't you sit in the front?" Jet asked, eerily calm.

Zuko wanted to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was scared.

_So scared..._

Without waiting for an answer, the sergeant exited the car and went to go open the trunk, taking out the two suitcases. He handed them to Azula with a smile, watching as she steadied them.

"You got it?" Jet asked.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jet!" Azula beamed, looking up with a smile.

Jet reached down to ruffle her hair before going back towards the car and picking up the envelope he left inside. As he leaned in to retrieve it, he looked over at the still-petrified child sitting in the backseat.

"What are you waiting for?" he scoffed, keeping his voice low so that Azula wouldn't hear. "Get out of the damn car before I drag you out." 

He watched as the boy shakily unbuckled his seat belt and got out. Jet closed the doors and locked the car, leading the children inside the airport. He grabbed Zuko's ice pack as they entered, chucking it into the nearest trash can. 

"Um, Mr. Jet," Azula called out, "Zuzu needs the ice pack. He's hurt."

"He told me that he was feeling better." Jet smiled at the girl before turning over to her brother. "Right, Zuko?"

The child nodded, looking down at the ground as they walked further into the airport.

"When was that?" Azula asked. "Zuzu didn't talk to you the entire ride..."

"He told me as he was getting out of the car just now." Jet noticed how the girl opened her mouth to comment and quickly interrupted her. "Let's get in line. We can see when the next flight is."

He led the two siblings into the nearest line, pulling out their passports from the envelope. When they got to the check-in area, Jet handed the tickets to the woman standing behind the counter.

"Thank you," she smiled. "Now if I may have your passports for verification?"

Jet gave her the two passports he was holding, watching as the woman smiled and verified the two siblings. 

"And yours, sir?" She stretched her hand out towards Jet, asking for his passport.

The sergeant's mind blanked. He began patting himself down, laughing nervously.

"Sorry," he sighed. "It seems that I forgot my passport in my office."

The woman smiled, ever so patient. "You need a passport to board the plane to Ba Sing Se. The city states that you must meet those regulations in order to come in."

Jet pulled out his license. "I don't have my passport, but I have my license. Will that work?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but you need a passport. I can't sign off on your ticket without a passport."

"But my license counts as identification--"

"Please bring your passport, sir."

"But--"

"Your passport, sir." The woman smiled curtly, trying to remain patient. " _Please._ "

Jet sighed, stepping out of the way and letting the next person in line come through. He called Ming, asking her if she would be able to do him a favor. Nearly two hours later, the officer showed up to the airport with the sergeant's passport in tow. She handed it to the man, taking a moment to smile at the two children behind him.

"How is the arrest going?" Jet asked.

"So far, the detectives are still tracking him down," Ming sighed. "But we'll find him soon. We have reason to believe he's residing in a village near the coastline of the Fire Nation."

"A village?" Jet wondered. "Contact the sheriffs and ask for cooperation. Find Yon Rha as soon as you can."

"Will do, sir," Ming stated. She then turned to the children behind him, smiling, "Have a safe flight!"

As they waved her goodbye, Jet turned to the woman behind the counter and gave her his passport. She thanked him and signed off his ticket, grabbing their luggage and directing him to their flight terminal. 

"The next flight is this evening," she explained, "You'll arrive next morning to your destination. Have a good flight."

Jet snickered, "Don't you mean have a _safe_ flight?"

"I don't control the safety of your flight, sir. That's for the pilot to dictate."

"Oh-- I... well--"

"Have a good flight, sir." The woman pointed to the way their flight terminal was located. "Please make your way forward."

Jet stammered, thrown off by the woman's remark. He grumbled and grabbed the tickets and passports, rushing to the flight terminal. Azula and Zuko ran after him; their legs tried to keep up with his long strides. They made it to the terminal, waiting for a few hours before boarding their flight. As they got on the plane, Azula rushed towards their seating area, already claiming the window seat for herself. 

"Zuzuuu," she begged, "Sit with me. Please, please, please, please? Pretty please with a cherry on top--"

"Go on, Zuko," Jet smiled. "Sit with your sister."

In the end, it worked out. 

As Zuko sat in the middle, Jet took the blanket the airplane provided and draped it over the boy. When Azula asked why he was doing so, he told her that Zuko looked as though he was getting cold. When Azula asked her brother if that was true, he smirked as the boy wordlessly nodded. Jet sat down next to the boy, waiting for the flight to take off. 

" _Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! This is your pilot speaking. We will be boarding our flight to Ba Sing Se in a few minutes. Please put on your seat belt and stay in your seat until the plane has fully ascended, and be sure to put your seat belts back on when the plane descends. The flight is fifteen hours and thirteen minutes long, and we will be arrive at around 10 a.m. the very next morning. Please watch and pay close attention the safety demonstrations as directed by our lovely flight attendants before the plane takes off. Thank you and have a wonderful day."_

The microphone sounded off. The flight attendants demonstrated safety precautions. As soon as they were done, the plane started to move. As it ascended into the air, Jet watched as flight attendants went around and made sure everyone was okay. They came around with snacks and refreshments when the plane was fully in the air, and then came by later with dinner.

After the meal, most of the flyers on the cabin had fallen asleep. Jet looked over at the siblings next to him and noticed how they were both watching a movie on Azula's chair screen. Zuko looked as though he was minutes away from falling asleep, and a plan suddenly struck Jet's mind.

He slowly snaked his arm under the blanket he draped over Zuko, placing his hand on the boy's thigh. He pretended to scroll through his chair screen with his other hand, smirking to himself when he felt the boy stiffen. The sergeant inched the boy's thighs apart, moving his hand in between the child's legs. He palmed him, feeling him squirm.

As he felt the boy try to close his legs, Jet turned his attention over to him and leaned over. He took his hand away from under the blanket and used it to move the headphones the boy was wearing.

"Meet me in the bathroom," he whispered, low enough for only Zuko to hear, before getting out of his seat and heading to the nearest bathroom.

Zuko watched as the man walked to the bathroom; his nerves started to spike. Unwillingly, he turned over to Azula, gently moving her headphones away.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," he told her in a quiet voice.

"Okay, but where's Mr. Jet?" she asked in the same quiet voice he used.

"...Didn't you see him get up?"

"No, I was busy watching the movie. Why? Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure," he lied. 

Azula's eyes widened in suspicion. "You're lying--"

"I need to go to the bathroom," he interrupted her, getting up from his seat.

"Okay, but hurry," she scolded, "Rapunzel is about to go back to her evil witch mom and I don't want you to miss what happens next!"

"You're not even going to pause the movie?"

"Nope," Azula beamed, smiling widely, "It's not my fault you have to go to the bathroom. So hurry!"

A cold feeling washed over Zuko. He smiled at his sister and began walking to the bathroom, making sure to avoid waking anyone up as he passed by the aisles. He thought about what Azula said.

_'it's not my fault you have to go to the bathroom!'_

She was right; it wasn't her fault.

 _It's all your fault,_ the dark voice reminded. _This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't your fault._

Zuko nodded to himself, agreeing with the dark voice.

He stopped in front of the bathroom, seeing that it wasn't locked. He knocked, watching it creak open before he was pulled inside. He turned to see Jet lock the door, making sure no one would come in. While that happened, Zuko looked around.

The small bathroom seemed so cramped with two people inside. 

The boy waited, not really knowing what would happen. He had a feeling, but didn't want to be right. All he knew was that he didn't want to anger the older man.

"Took you a long enough time." Jet turned around, smirking at the twelve-year-old. "Were you busy fucking your sister?"

Zuko didn't know what that meant. To his ears, it sounded like an insult.

Was the sergeant insulting his sister?

Why?

Zuko watched as Jet reached over to his hair, unbinding the hairband he fixed hours ago. The boy felt his hair fall around his shoulders, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He felt the man snake his hands into his hair, combing through it with his fingers.

"Zhao was right," Jet muttered, loud enough for Zuko to hear. "You do look like your mother with your hair down. You just don't look as dead as she was--lying in a pool of her own blood."

Zuko suddenly couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to regain composure.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he felt a harsh tug at his scalp. Zuko opened his eyes in shock and whimpered, not liking how the sergeant was pulling at his hair.

"Look at me when I'm taking to you." Jet glared, tugging at Zuko's locks harder. "Now be a good boy. Show me what your _Uncle Zhao_ taught you."

*********

When Zuko got back, Azula had already finished watching the movie. She had placed her headphones on her lap; a bored expression played on her face. The end credits rolled as he shuffled to his seat, wincing as he sat down.

 _He was in so much pain and_ \--

"You missed the ending to 'Tangled'," Azula scolded, pouting a little bit. "And why is your hair down? Did you flush the hairband I gave you down the toilet?"

Zuko didn't comment. Azula dropped her pout, suddenly growing concerned.

She looked into his eyes, trying to read his emotions. "Zuzu, are you oka--"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, interrupting her.

Azula had to strain her ears to hear him. She felt him lean into her, resting his head on her shoulder. A stench filled the girl's senses as her brother did so; she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Zuzu, you smell bad," she whined, "You need a shower."

As soon as she said those words, she regret opening her mouth. Azula stilled when she felt something wet coat her shoulder. In the corner of her eye, she could see Zuko crying, silently staring at the end credits rolling on the screen.

"I-I..." She heard him sniffle. "A-Azula, I want t-to sh-shower..."

Guilt gnawed in her gut. She carefully reached over and put a blanket over her brother, doing her best to tuck him into his seat comfortably as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You don't smell that bad, Zuzu," she comforted. "I was just joking."

"I-I don't wanna be he-here..." His voice sounded so weak and wounded. "...I-I j-just want a sh-shower... I-I don't wa-wanna feel i-it anymore..."

Azula didn't know what 'it' was. She had a feeling she didn't want to know either. Instead, she put her arm around him and pulled him closer.

"We'll be in Ba Sing Se soon," she reassured him gently. "You can shower when we get to our uncle's house."

"I-I don't wa-wanna feel i-it..." the boy kept whispering. "I-I don't l-like it..."

"Whatever 'it' is, I'm here for you." Azula paused and reached over, fixing the part of the blanket that started drooping from Zuko's shoulders. "I'll protect you, Zuzu, just like you protect me. I got you. 'It' won't get to you."

She felt her brother settle down. She almost didn't notice how much he was shaking until he stilled. One more look told her that her brother silently cried himself to sleep. Azula pressed a button above her head, asking for a flight attendant. When one came by, she asked for a tissue. The flight attendant left and returned with a wad of tissues, which Azula took with a wide smile. As the flight attendant left, the girl took a napkin and gently wiped away the tears and snot on her brother's face.

Just as she finished, she saw Jet come down the aisle and plop into his seat. She smiled when he looked at her.

Azula turned her attention back to her chair screen. She made sure to dim the lights so that they wouldn't bother her sleeping brother. She then began to choose another movie from the screen, trying to decide between 'Moana' and 'Brave'. As she was debating which one she should watch, she saw movement in the corner of her eye. At first, she thought it was just Zuko shuffling into a better position on her shoulder.

But then...

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking at Jet.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, and Azula wondered why he was pretending to be confused all of a sudden.

"Why are you putting your hand under Zuzu's blanket? You have your own."

She saw the man stiffen before he answered, "I'm just making sure the blanket doesn't fall off of him. I'm holding it in place."

Azula looked at Jet, analyzing him. "You're lying."

Before the man could move, she quickly and carefully yanked part of the blanket off of Zuko. Her eyes landed on the sergeant's hand, which was placed near Zuko's inner thigh.

She turned and looked into the man's eyes. "Why is your hand on his leg?"

Jet didn't answer.

"Get your hand off my brother's leg," she demanded, glaring at the sergeant. "If anything happens to his blanket, _I'll_ fix it. Don't touch him."

She didn't know why she was being so protective. It just seemed right. She watched as Jet grumbled and moved his hand away, turning to his side and dozing off. Azula made sure the man was completely asleep before gently fixing the part of the blanket she yanked off. 

She even scooted toward the window and brought Zuko closer to her, putting some distance between him and the man. 

The girl turned back to her chair screen and clicked on 'Brave', deciding to watch 'Moana' next. She kept one ear uncovered with her headphones, wanting to know if and when Jet made a new noise or shuffle. The nine-year-old held her brother securely--if not tighter. Her gut told her not to leave her brother with the sergeant. 

She didn't sleep the entire flight.

*********

_"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking! We are now preparing to land in the city of Ba Sing Se. Please stay in your seats and have your seat belts fastened until you are told to get off. Thank you for flying with Sozin Comet Airlines, and have a wonderful journey in Ba Sing Se!"_

The plane descended, and soon after, the passengers on the flight filed out. Zuko, Azula, and Jet went over to the luggage claim area and grabbed the two suitcases they brought. Once the children picked up their belongings, the sergeant led them to the train station a few blocks away from the airport. When Jet opened up the envelope, he found three tickets for them to use.

"Huh..." He stared at the tickets with some amazement and shock. "...Upper ring? Your uncle must be rich."

When the train arrived, the trio gave the conductor their tickets and boarded. They found an empty cabin designated for upper ring travelers and situated themselves. As Azula grabbed her brother's suitcase and began to steady it near the window, Jet grabbed Zuko's arm and pulled him down to sit with him. He pressed himself close to the boy, smirking when the child began to squirm.

His inner happiness was short-lived, however. Just as he began to get comfortable, he saw a tiny hand yank the boy away from him. The man looked up--annoyed and displeased--and saw Azula glare at him, pushing her brother behind her.

Jet pushed back any feelings of wanting to throw the girl off the train and smiled. "Azula, don't you want to lie down by yourself?"

She kept her glare. "I want to sit with Zuzu."

"But I noticed that you didn't sleep the entire flight. Don't you want to get some sleep right now?"

"I'm not tired." She actually was tired, but wouldn't admit it. "But you seem restless. Why don't you sleep?"

When the man didn't answer, Azula huffed and pulled her brother down to sit with her. She kept her arm around him securely, glaring at the man sitting in front of her. She noticed how he was trying to steal glances at Zuko, so she lightly pushed the boy's head down to avert his eyes. 

A feeling of protection washed over her completely. She didn't know why, but it ate at her.

Maybe it was because she caught the sergeant lying. He lied that he was keeping the blanket secure. He didn't say that he was keeping his hand on Zuko's leg. In her mind, putting a hand on someone's leg wasn't that big of a deal. Her mother did it to her when she wouldn't stop ticking her leg or when she didn't settle down. 

But something about the placement of the hand just seemed more... _personal_.

And Azula didn't like that. It just looked like there was more to know.

She didn't know why, but she wouldn't ignore her gut. Ever.

As the train stopped at their destination, Azula waited for the sergeant to get up. She stayed in her seat until the man left the cabin, standing just outside. She then grabbed the suitcases and gave one to Zuko. The girl made sure he was securely holding onto his bag before grabbing ahold of her brother's hand. The two walked out of the train hand-in-hand, following Jet as he led them to the waiting area. There, they saw an old man holding a sign saying 'Azula and Zuko'.

"Is that him?" Azula asked Jet, looking at the old man. "Is that our uncle?"

Her question was answered when the old man spotted them and smiled. He rushed over, waving a hand in the air. The two siblings looked at each other and drew closer--a little anxious. They had never seen him before. 

But he looked friendly. Like a big ol' golden retriever. 

"You must be my nephew and niece!" he exclaimed, a little out of breath. "You both look just like Ursa!"

Azula perked up at the mention of her mother. "You know our mama?"

"Of course I know her!" the man laughed. "She was a wonderful lady. Prettier than the girls in Ba Sing Se!"

Azula laughed along, clearly amused. 

Jet cleared his throat, smiling at the man. "And who might you be?"

"Well, my birth name is Iroh Sozin." The man smiled, stroking his beard. "But the good folks of Ba Sing Se call me the Dragon of the West."

"Why do they call you that?" Azula asked.

"You see, my tea shop--the finest in the world, by the way--is called the Jasmine Dragon. Hence, I would be a dragon."

"But why 'of the West'? Aren't you from Ba Sing Se?"

"I moved here many years ago, but before I moved, I lived in the Fire Nation!" Iroh ruffled Azula's hair affectionately. "Just like you!"

"That makes sense," Jet wondered out loud. "The Fire Nation is west of here... Kinda creative."

Iroh stuck out his hand for a handshake, smiling at the man. "And who might you be, young man?"

Jet shook Iroh's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Sergeant Jet. I'll be here for wellness checks to make sure your nephew and niece are fairing well."

"A sergeant, you say?" Iroh hummed. "You look so young! You must be excellent at your job to make it so high in your rank."

"I'd say so." Jet winked, looking down at Zuko.

Would he ever tell the old man about his corruption? Of course not.

No one had to know what they didn't already.

"As much as I'd love to catch up with all of you here, I'm afraid my old joints need some place to sit before they tire," Iroh joked. "Come with me! I have a car prepared for us to go home in!"

Iroh walked towards the train station exit, making sure the trio was following him. Azula grasped Zuko's hand in hers and started following their Golden-Retriever-Uncle-- _Iroh, was it?_ \--towards a car. She let the old man take her and her brother's suitcase, watching him carefully put them in the trunk. She then pulled her brother into the backseat, only then letting her brother's hand go to put on her seat belt. She grasped it again when she saw Jet get into the front passenger seat, glaring slightly when she saw the man look at Zuko.

Iroh sat himself into the car and turned on the engine. As they started driving, he made small talk with his passengers.

"You see, I don't own a car," he laughed, giving a small glance at Azula and Zuko. "But I know you all have had a long journey! I didn't want to trouble you by making you walk home the day you arrive, so I rented this car for a few hours!"

"Why don't you own one?" Azula asked, her cat-like curiosity getting to her.

"The journey towards a destination is much more fulfilling when one takes the time to analyze their surroundings," Iroh philosophized. "With a car, I can't take the time to appreciate all that is around me. If I did that, I'd be holding up traffic! So I stopped driving many years ago. I haven't regret that decision since."

"But you have a license..."

"Ah, yes, my niece!" Iroh laughed merrily. "I was once a young man in my prime years! The places I'd go to with my old car--the good old days! I was often gone without supervision, but I don't think I should say much about that in front of an officer of the law!"

Jet laughed along. "I'm sure it was a long time ago. I think I can look the other way just for you."

No one noticed how Zuko flinched at those words, nor did they notice how Azula quirked an eyebrow suspiciously at the sergeant.

They soon reached Iroh's house in a matter of minutes. Iroh parked the car in a driveway and shut the engine off, making a comment about how he needed to return the car to the owners within a few hours. He opened the trunk and took out the suitcases he placed, shooing Azula away when she tried to help him carry it.

"I'll admit, my joints ache some days," he said, waving his niece away when she pouted, "But I'm still strong! I can manage a few suitcases!"

Azula's pout deepened. "But I want to help..." 

"Hmm..." Iroh thought, suddenly getting an idea. "If you want to help, why don't you grab my keys from my pocket and open the front door? That is a big enough task for only the most determined folks!"

Azula beamed and dug into her uncle's pockets, fumbling with the keys. She grabbed Zuko's hand and ran to the front door, trying to fit every key into the lock until she found the one that worked. Just as she opened the door, she saw her uncle come up behind her with Jet. Upon seeing the sergeant, Azula quickly entered the house and pushed Zuko further into the house--away from the man. She saw the sergeant pass her uncle the envelope he was carrying, explaining what was inside. 

"Sergeant," Iroh turned and spoke to Jet, "Would you like to come in for some tea? I'm sure the journey was long for you."

"I'd appreciate that, but maybe some other time," Jet declined, already walking backwards. "I have to check in with the Dai Li headquarters; they're offering me a place to stay before I go back to the Fire Nation. But I'll come around tomorrow for a wellness check."

"I hope the Dai Li treats you well!" Iroh smiled, waving at the younger man's retreating form. "Tomorrow, I'll fix you the best jasmine tea you've ever drank!"

"I'm looking forward to it," Jet laughed, waving back.

Iroh watched as the sergeant walked down the block, heading towards his destination. He felt a little bad about sending away a guest so soon, but soon fixed his mind on his niece and nephew. With a warm smile, he grabbed their suitcases and headed inside the house.

His mind was set on a goal: he was going to be the best uncle in all of Ba Sing Se.

*********

Iroh showed the two children around the house. As he got to their designated rooms (he spent _days_ making sure they were perfect), he carried their respective suitcases inside.

"Now, would you kids like to unpack?" Iroh asked. "Or would you like some tea first?"

Azula looked at her brother, wanting to know what he wanted. The boy looked at his feet, not knowing what to say.

He didn't want to make a decision.

He didn't want to be _wrong._

Azula looked up at her uncle, sighing to herself with a mixture of disappointment and worry. Zuko hadn't spoken since the flight--not a single word. 

"Um..." she wondered. "...Is it alright if we can tour the house more? Please?"

"Of course!" Iroh beamed, gesturing the two siblings down the hall. "This house is so big that even I find new things here and there!"

Azula gasped, "Really?"

"I swear to Agni, my niece! Just the other day, I found out that the showerhead in my bathroom was detachable!"

Azula laughed, and she swore that she heard Zuko try to muffle a giggle. 

Uncle Iroh was a _very_ funny person.

The three walked around, slowly examining the walls and rooms they passed by. Azula's eyes wandered until they landed on a picture frame on the wall, hung above a table supporting a small bonsai tree and a few incense sticks. Zuko looked at his sister and met her glance, looking at the frame with mild curiosity. Iroh noticed his niece and nephew eyeing a photo and stopped, letting them observe.

Azula turned to her uncle, pointing at the frame. "Who's that?"

Iroh looked at the frame, following his niece's finger. It was a picture of Ozai and Ursa, still in their prime years when the photo was taken. In Ozai's hand was a bundle--a tiny baby. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was happy.

"That," Iroh answered, pointing to the frame, "is your mother and father."

"I know that," Azula giggled, "But who's the baby?"

"Zuko." Iroh turned over to the boy and smiled. "That's you, nephew!"

The girl pouted. "But where am I?"

"You weren't born yet, my niece. You came two years later!"

The nine-year-old huffed, annoyed that she wasn't in the picture frame. Iroh chuckled at her antics and assured her that there were more pictures of her somewhere around the house. It seemed to bring her into a happier mood, and everything seemed fine.

Until it wasn't.

"I didn't know mama had a brother," Azula told Iroh. "You remind me of her! You're really nice, Uncle Iroh!"

Iroh cooed, thanking the girl. "I appreciate the praise, my niece! But your mother was an only child. She has no brother."

"Then... are you her cousin?"

"No, no, I'm afraid not."

"Then..." Azula grew quieter. "...How are you related to us?"

The man smiled, thinking nothing of the question. "I'm your father's older brother!"

Azula's heart dropped. She backed away, trying to look over her shoulder at Zuko. With every glance she took, she could see how terrified her brother was. She turned to look over at her uncle and noticed how his happy expression dropped.

Was he mad?

Did he expect them to already know about how he was related to them?

Would he do something... bad?

Surely he could forgive them, right?

...Right?

While Azula's mind raced with every possible outcome to the situation, Zuko's mind blanked . He stared at the man-- _his uncle_ \--and feared what would happen.

That man was related to his father.

That man was his father's _older_ brother.

Ozai had already shown how bad he could be.

But his older brother? He was bound to be even worse, right?

Was Iroh mad that Ozai was dead?

Did he blame Zuko?

 _He definitely blames you_ , the dark voice taunted. _It's always your fault. Your uncle will blame you soon enough._

Zuko tried to move, but his legs were locked in place. He found his chest hurting, and only then realized that he hadn't breathed since he heard Iroh say that he was related to their father. He tried to ground himself. He tried to find Azula.

Where was Azula?

If Zuko could only grab her hand.

They could run away.

Away from danger and away from--

Zuko started to panic, gasping for air. He saw Iroh's hand reach out to him. He had a look on his face that Zuko had never seen, but the hand was coming closer.

_Just like papa._

The boy's mind came up with two possible outcomes: he was either getting slapped, or he was getting dragged somewhere by his hair.

_Just like papa._

His body tried to get him to run. He needed to run.

When Iroh's hand cupped his cheek--the one with the scar--Zuko's legs moved. He could hear someone scream his name, but he didn't stop. He breathed in harder and faster, trying not to cry.

He needed to hide.

 _He's going to hurt you,_ the dark voice mocked. _Don't delay the inevitable._

As Zuko ran down the hallway, trying to shut out the dark voice, he saw a door. He flung it open and ran inside. His eyes landed on a bed and he ran towards it, crawling under it as fast as he could. He heard footsteps following him and he held his breath in, finding it hard since he was running not even a second ago. Not a moment later, he saw a pair of small feet running towards the bed.

Azula.

It was Azula.

The girl dropped to the ground and crawled under the bed, scooting close to Zuko. They huddled together, scared of what would happen next.

They heard the man call out for them. 

They heard his footsteps enter the bedroom. 

They saw him walk towards the bed, dropping to his knees.

And then they saw his face.

"Zuko, Azula," he begged ( _why was he begging--_ ), "Come out. Please. Please tell me what's going on."

Zuko instead just scooted away from the man; his feet nearly touched the wall behind him. He saw Azula do the same.

And then he saw a hand.

Iroh's hand.

He was reaching for Zuko, and the boy quickly covered his face. He could hear his sister crying next to him. He felt sobs escape him, soon turning into cries and begs.

 _Pathetic,_ the dark voice scoffed. _Begging won't do you any good. Papa still hurt you when you begged. So did Uncle Zhao. What makes you think Uncle Iroh will be different?_

Zuko agreed, but didn't stop his begging.

He just didn't want to be hurt.

Not again. 

*********

Iroh stood there, stunned out of his mind. All he did was place his hand on his nephew's cheek. He had done that before with his own son--only for comfort.

He didn't mean to scare Zuko. 

Did he hurt him? The scar looked painful, but Iroh was reassured that it was close to healing.

The man watched in horror as the young boy turned on his heels and sprinted away. He looked over at his niece, wanting to ask her for some answer of what just happened, but noticed her running away.

Did his nephew not like being touched? He hadn't spoken to him at all; his niece was the only one that even bothered to make small talk. 

Perhaps it was because everything was new. Iroh scolded himself--reminding himself with a bitter conscience that both of the children's parents died. He shouldn't have expected the kids to open up to him so quickly, especially since they didn't even know him.

Albeit, he did live in the Fire Nation for a while, but he was in a different city. Ozai always said that his family was too busy to meet him. Iroh regret not pushing his brother for a family get-together; at least his niece and nephew would have been more comfortable around him if he was around them at least _once_ before they lost their parents.

But now was not the time for regrets.

Iroh sighed and followed the two children, wandering down the hall and wondering where they ran off to. He needed to apologize. Perhaps he overstepped a boundary he didn't know existed. 

The man called out for the children. He rounded every hall until he saw an open door. If it was any other door, he would have walked right in.

But this door...

It was always closed, and Iroh liked to keep it that way.

_Because he didn't want to..._

Iroh quickly shook away the thoughts that plagued his mind. He hesitated to go into the room, but knew that his nephew and niece were in there. With a deep breath, he walked in. His mind started to fill with memories associated with the room, but he pushed them down.

_Now was not the time for such memories._

The old man looked around the room; his eyes landed on the bed. He could hear rapid breathing from underneath, as well as a few sniffles and whimpers. Iroh realized that the two children were hiding under the bed. He quietly walked over, trying not to startle them. As he reached the foot of the bed, he knelt down and peered under the bed frame.

Two trembling children started back at him. Their teary eyes wavered in fear as he looked back. 

"Zuko, Azula," he begged, not knowing how else to get the children out from underneath the bed, "Come out. Please. Please tell me what's going on."

Instead of doing so, Zuko started scooting away from him. Iroh saw his niece do the same--her eyes not once leaving his own. They looked so scared as though...

_As though Iroh was going to hurt them._

The thought sent bad shivers down the man's spine.

Something wasn't right.

But he needed to get the children out from under the bed. 

Iroh sighed and put his arm under the bed, figuring that maybe-- _just maybe_ \--he could pull the children out gently. He had done it before when his own son had played hide-and-seek as a child and refused to come out of his hiding spot. This wouldn't be so different, right?

He thought wrong.

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard loud sobs. They sounded almost... tortured.

Iroh quickly retracted his hand out from under the bed and peered at the children. Zuko had covered his face-- _mostly his scar_ \--while Azula was covering her mouth, trying to muffle her cries.

Another horrible thought entered Iroh's mind as he stared at the two siblings. 

Zuko was protecting his face-- _his scar._ Where did the scar come from? Did someone give him that scar?

And Azula--who was muffling her cries--appeared so scared. Why was she scared? Was she scared of crying?

Who... hurt these kids?

Iroh silently got up from the floor, numbly walking out of the room. The man didn't want to leave the two children alone, especially not when they were sobbing under a bed, but he felt as though he didn't have a choice. He let his feet carry him out into the hallway and down to the dining room, heading to the wall where the landline phone hung. He picked it up and dialed a number he memorized in the few days leading up to his niece and nephew coming into his home. As he pressed call and waited for the other line to pick up, he thought about what he wanted to ask.

It terrified him when his mind kept drawing a connection between the children and--

A woman's voice interrupted his thoughts. _"Good evening! This is the Fire Fountain Child Protective Services Department! How may I help you today?"_

Evening? Iroh looked at the window leading outside, seeing the sun still out. It was barely past noon.

Oh wait. Time zones. 

The time zones were different.

Iroh sighed, mentally cursing at himself before greeting the woman. "Hello? Is this Ms. Smellerbee?"

 _"No, but I can transfer your line to her!"_ the woman explained. _"If I may ask, is there a specific question you had for her?"_

"I... Zuko and Azula... They..." Iroh paused, not knowing how to explain himself. He settled for starting over. "Hello, I'm Iroh Sozin. My niece and nephew were just put under my legal guardianship. Ms. Smellerbee handled the case, and I was just wondering if she had the answer to a few of my questions..."

_"I see. May I ask what those questions are about?"_

"Just some... background questions. About their home life. Before they came here to Ba Sing Se."

_"I understand. Let me connect you to Ms. Smellerbee's line; she will be right with you!"_

"Thank you, miss."

Iroh heard the phone line cut and ring again. He waited for someone to pick up, and finally heard the person he sought out.

_"Hello, how may I help you?"_

"Ms. Smellerbee," Iroh sighed in relief. "Hello. This is Iroh Sozin, from Ba Sing Se. Zuko and Azula's uncle."

 _"Ah, yes."_ He heard typing in the background. _"How may I help you, sir?"_

"I just had a few questions about my niece and nephew's background in the Fire Nation. I was hoping you would have some answers."

_"Before I answer those questions, I'm going to need to do a small background check on you for security purposes. I can't give out information without confirming identity."_

Iroh agreed, answering Smellerbee's questions one-by-one. When he was done, the woman asked him what was on his mind.

"Can you tell me about their home life?" The man heard a slight hesitation on the other line. "Please. It's just... Something is bugging me."

 _"I'm afraid I can't disclose that information,"_ Smellerbee apologized. _"It's private matters and it might interfere with police work."_

"Please, I need to know." 

_"I can't do that. Is there anything else that you'd like to know?"_

"Ms. Smellerbee, please. I need to know. I am their legal guardian now. It is my job to look after these kids," Iroh protested, growing a bit agitated. "The least you can do is let me in on some things. Please, I'm their uncle; I'm not a stranger. I have the right to know!"

It puzzled him, but more importantly, it angered him.

These were _his_ kids now. He needed to know what happened to them. The sinking feeling worsened, filling him with slight anxiety and frustration.

 _"I..."_ he heard Smellerbee sigh.

"Please, Ms. Smellerbee," he begged. He wasn't below begging if it would help him in any way, shape, or form. "You don't have to give me every little detail. Just some things that would help explain their behavior."

_"...What behavior? They seem like normal kids."_

The anger in Iroh grew. "What behavior--? Ms. Smellerbee, you and I both know that it is _not normal_ for _children_ to hide from an adult out of fear! Especially if they make it seem like it's a normal occurrence!"

_"If you're worried about your niece and nephew not liking you, then we can arrange for another family to look after--"_

"No!" Iroh shouted. He was at his limit. Usually, he would be patient and forgiving, but this...? "My niece and nephew will stay with me. I am their uncle--a blood relative. I will not have some other family look after these children when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself! I'm at my wits end; I just want to know what happened to these children! I know for a _fact_ that no child will act as those two did, other than any known case of--!"

He stopped himself; his anger faded. He almost said it.

He almost said what was on his mind--in his thoughts. 

On the other side of the line, he could hear the woman sigh in defeat. _"...You're right, yes. But I can't disclose everything to you. The police has asked me to hold onto this information until the investigation is over."_

Iroh was filled in about the investigation of his brother's murder. He just didn't think it made sense to hold onto anything pertaining the children.

But nonetheless...

"You don't have to tell me everything, Ms. Smellerbee," Iroh said, somewhat calmer than before. "I apologize for snapping at you. I just... I'm worried, Ms. Smellerbee."

He heard some hesitation before the woman spoke again. _"You're right. About the known case of..."_

Iroh backtracked. "I don't understand."

_"...Abuse."_

The man's heart stopped. He almost put the phone down when the woman went into detail about...

About how there was a small case about child neglect and endangerment minutes before the murder. 

About his nephew's medical report.

About the tattered and worn clothes, as well as a dried-blood-stained mattress, found in the house.

 _"That's all I can tell you,"_ Smellerbee finished. _"I'm afraid I can't be of much help..."_

"No, no," Iroh protested, on the verge of tears. "You've... You've been a great help, Ms. Smellerbee. Thank you for telling me. I sincerely apologize for snapping at you."

 _"It's alright."_ A pause. _"...I understand that you care about your nephew and niece. I'm sorry for holding this information against you."_

Iroh laughed humorlessly. "No need to apologize. I've lived in the Fire Nation; I know the laws there."

He heard the woman laugh alongside him. _"The laws can be quite a handful sometimes."_

"Indeed." Iroh sighed. "I must go. Thank you."

_"My pleasure. Take care."_

"You, too."

Iroh waited for the other line to cut before placing the landline phone back on its holster. He felt tears run down his face as he numbly walked to the living room and sat on the couch he just bought the other day...

_...for the children._

He thought they'd like the couch. It was comfortable and wide. It was perfect.

_But their home-life was so--_

Iroh wept, thinking back to the days when he lived in the Fire Nation. He remembered the memories his brother and him shared. Back in Caldera City, where his brother and him shared a small apartment complex after their abusive father kicked them out, Iroh thought back to the happy times.

His brother wouldn't do that to his own children, would he?

Iroh almost believed that thought, until he thought about Ursa. 

He remembered his brother dragging him to the small town of Hira'a--all to see just one simple play. 

And when that play ended, Ozai dragged him backstage to meet the person who played a main character. She was a young woman named Ursa.

Ursa, who was just eighteen-years-old when she met Ozai (ten years her senior), had smiled at them. 

He remembered trying to pull Ozai away from the girl-- _she was just a girl_ \--but his younger brother persisted.

And soon, they started dating. A year later, they were married.

He remembered seeing his brother and his sister-in-law a few times when Zuko was born.

He came to see the baby-- _his nephew_ \--but all he saw were bruises. Dark spots painted Ursa's skin. She had deep eyebags where she used to have vibrant eyes, and Iroh couldn't help but think that a twenty-year-old shouldn't be that tired.

But he ignored it. 

As he ignored it, he didn't realize when he stopped visiting the family. All he knew was that his brother moved Ursa and Zuko out of Caldera City. All he got was a small postcard a month later, telling him that he had a niece named Azula. It was sent from Fire Fountain City-- _he had an address_ \--but the never once visited. 

Iroh wept. He knew he should have done something.

Because if he had done something, then these children would have been happy.

And Ursa wouldn't have committed suicide.

*********

Zuko flinched when he heard yelling. It seemed that his uncle was on the phone with someone, but he didn't know why.

Was he going to send them back?

Zuko removed his hands away from his face and put his arm around Azula. He held her closer, patting her back as she silently sobbed. He himself stopped sobbing a while ago, but his eyes were still leaking tears.

It felt like hours had passed before the shouting ceased. The boy couldn't hear anyone, even if he strained his ears. One side was always fuzzier than the other, making hearing harder now than before. He turned to face his sister, noticing that she stopped crying. 

He didn't even know when she stopped sobbing.

She was on his left side; he couldn't hear.

Zuko numbly stayed under the bed, making sure his sister was alright. He watched as she tried to stop herself from dozing off, and wondered how she was able to almost fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position. He kept patting her back rhythmically, comforting her.

When he looked up towards the foot of the bed, he noticed that the light had dimmed. There must have been a window in the room. The sun must have started to set, and for the first time, Zuko wondered how long they had been hiding under the bed.

And where was their uncle? 

Did he just leave them?

Taking in a shaky breath, Zuko slowly crawled out from under the bed. He looked towards the door, noticing how it had been left open. His eyes made their way around the room, landing on the window. Just as he figured, the sun was beginning to set.

"Azula," he whispered, gesturing towards her to get out from under the bed.

He moved out of the way, allowing her to crawl out. The boy got up off the floor and helped his sister up. He saw her look around the room before walking towards the doorway.

Was she leaving the room?

He started to panic, rushing towards her, but stopped when she stood next to a dresser placed by the doorway. The boy went over to his sister, curiosity nipping at him. As he got closer, he could see that she was looking at the picture frame placed on top of the dresser. He watched her pick it up, almost wanting to tell her to put it down.

"Who is this?" Azula asked him, looking at the frame.

Zuko looked down at the picture in her hand and wondered the same. It was a young man, smiling widely for the camera. Was it a picture of their uncle from many years ago? 

Zuko shrugged. He didn't know. He saw Azula bite her bottom lip in wonder before striding out of the room. The panic returned in full force as he ran behind her and yanked her back into the room. When she looked at him, a bit annoyed and confused, he shook his head in protest.

"No?" she asked him. "Why no?"

"N-No, he..." Zuko gulped, pointing to the hallway. "U-Uncle..."

He didn't need to say more. Azula looked at him as though she understood.

"I know," she reassured him, "But we can't stay in this bedroom forever."

Zuko shook his head again, almost wanting to cry. Of course they could stay in this bedroom; it was safer!

If they went outside, they would meet their uncle. Who knew what their uncle would do? If he saw them, he might--

"Zuzu, it's okay." Azula gently put her hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him before he had a panic attack. "I'll be there with you."

Zuko looked at his sister in disbelief. Even if she was there, they could still both get hurt.

"No one will hurt us," she reassured. "If something happens, we'll run back into this room and hide under the bed again."

That... didn't seem like a bad idea, to be honest.

Zuko hesitantly agreed, slowly following his sister. She led them into the hallway, tightly clutching the picture frame against her chest.

"I think he's in the kitchen," she told him. "I can hear the water run in a sink."

Zuko looked at her, bewildered out of his mind. He couldn't hear anything, so how did she pick up on...?

...Oh.

The scar.

The boy sighed and walked behind his sister, a little dejected. 

Was this his life now? 

He couldn't hear properly anymore. Sure, he had one ear, but he wanted two functioning ears. Now more than ever.

It made him feel fuzzy, but in a really bad way.

He didn't know when they arrived into the kitchen until he heard his uncle's voice loud and clear. The boy shot his head up, looking into his uncle's eyes.

Was his uncle going to hurt him?

No, that didn't seem to be the case... If anything, the man was smiling at him. Gently, just like his mother would. 

"Zuko! Azula!" their uncle beamed, his smile growing wider. "Care to join me for some evening tea?"

Zuko looked at his uncle's hand; he was holding a tea kettle. He cowered behind his sister; his hand covered his scar. 

The memories came back sooner and faster than he would have liked. All he could see in front of him was his father holding a tea kettle, pushing his face into the kitchen sink and--

"Yes, please," he heard Azula say. "If... you don't mind...."

"Not at all," his uncle welcomed. "Come! Sit! I brewed some chamomile tea for everyone. Legend has it that it helps produce calming effects to the body."

"What legend, uncle?"

"Sit down, my niece! Let me tell you the tale of the hot-headed king!"

Zuko followed Azula as she took a seat at the dining table. He flinched when his uncle put his cup of tea in front of him. The man didn't seem to comment on that, and instead sat on the opposite side of the table.

Zuko picked up his cup of tea carefully, looking at it with a deep curiosity. In the background, he could hear his uncle tell his tale. It seemed to be the same one his mother once told him: a hot-headed king was so insufferable and hard to put up with due to his short-temper, up until a servant served him chamomile tea. Since then, the king's temper improved and he was no longer a tyrant to his people. He could hear Azula laugh at the story, knowing that she was a little less tense than before.

But the boy still didn't understand why his uncle was being so nice. Was it a ploy? 

Still... the old man was so gentle. 

It almost pained Zuko to think of the guy as an evil person. He was just so _nice._

He took a sip out of his tea, his eyes widening at the taste. It tasted so sweet and delicate. 

Almost like how his mother made it.

_But better._

Just as Zuko finished his tea, he heard his uncle ask Azula what she had in her hand. He almost choked on his last sip when the laughter stopped.

"This... um..." Zuko looked over at his sister as she slowly put the frame on the table, facing it towards their uncle. "...We saw it in the room... Who is it?"

Their uncle was silent, staring at the picture with a lost expression. Zuko thought about hiding under the dining room table, thinking that the man would grab the frame and hurl it at a wall-- _or at them_ \--just like their father had multiple time. 

"I'm sorry," he heard Azula's voice waver. She was scared. Zuko silently grabbed her hand as she continued to apologize, "I didn't know you'd be mad. I'm sorry. I can put it back for you if you want--"

"This is my son," their uncle interrupted. 

Zuko slowly let go of Azula's hand, but kept it close by just in case.

_Just in case._

"His name was Lu Ten," Iroh continued. "He would be twenty-two right now."

There was a silence in the room before Azula asked, "...Would be?"

"...He's dead." More silence before their uncle continued, "It's been six years. Six years since I lost my boy. I haven't been in that room for any other reason except making sure it stays clean."

"What... happened?"

"The doctors..." Iroh sighed, setting down his tea cup and putting his head in his hands. "...They couldn't save him. They tried everything they could, but..."

Zuko heard Iroh sniffle. He didn't know what to do. His father never cried in front of him until the day Ursa died; Ozai said crying was weakness.

But there sat his uncle--shamelessly crying in front of them. It confused Zuko.

"Do you miss him, Uncle Iroh?" he heard Azula ask. "Do you miss Lu Ten?"

"Of course," Iroh admitted, his voice shaking from crying. "I miss him every day. I just wish that... _maybe_... I could have helped him."

Perhaps his uncle killed Lu Ten, just like how Ozai tried to kill Zuko. 

But this was different. Ozai would have never cried over his son's dead body.

 _Because you're not worth tears,_ the dark voice explained. _Lu Ten must have been a good person. Unlike you._

"I miss mama," he heard Azula admit. "Like how you miss Lu Ten."

"Your mother and my son..." Iroh cleared his throat. "...They are both very similar." 

"You mean their personality?"

"No-- well, yes. My Lu Ten was a lot like your mother in terms of personality. They both liked theatre performances!" Iroh gave a small teary laugh, looking a little sympathetic. "But also... well... death."

"What do you mean?" Azula tilted her head in confusion.

"The way your mother died..." Iroh coughed awkwardly. "...My son died the same way."

Azula's eyes widened. "Papa killed Lu Ten?"

"No-- _what?_ "

*********

Iroh's stomach dropped. He could see Azula's eyes widen slightly, as though she hadn't meant to say anything. Next to her, Zuko started to fidget in his seat, wringing his hands together.

_Just like Ursa used to._

Iroh shook that thought away. He turned to Azula, trying to gently coax her into telling him what she meant.

"I... um..." She looked away from him. She seemed uncomfortable.

"It wasn't suicide?" Iroh asked, trying to get an answer out of his niece.

"What?" The girl looked at him as though he had offended her. "No! It was..."

"What was it?" Iroh coaxed, trying to be as gentle as possible. "I promise I won't be mad."

The nine-year-old stayed silent. The man could see the gears in her head turning. He looked over at his nephew, trying to see if he could tell him, only to see that the boy was looking away from him.

If he hadn't spoke to Iroh before, he wasn't going to speak now.

Dejectedly, he looked back at Azula, who seemed even more conflicted.

"Are you worried I'll tell anyone?" he asked her.

He saw her nod.

Iroh sighed. "I won't tell, my niece. I just want to know what happened." After a while, he added, "I just want to know the truth."

The girl stayed silent for a long time before she quietly whispered, "...Papa killed mama..."

He didn't know how to respond. He had seen the news report the morning after Ursa's death. It was international news; everyone knew she died from suicide. 

Or had she...?

Azula continued in the same quiet whisper, "The police came and papa talked to them. In the police station, Zuzu and I tried to tell everyone what happened. No one listened. They said mama committed suicide." 

Iroh found his voice somehow. "Are... Are you sure?"

He internally cursed himself. That was such a horrible question. Why would he question these children?

But a part of him didn't want to believe that Ozai killed his wife.

Ozai was his _younger brother._ He grew up with him, protecting him from their father when things got too bad. He comforted him when he cried. He watched Ozai grow up.

But when Azula told him, "Papa made us watch," he wanted to rip out his hair. 

When Azula said, "Zuzu tried to stop him, but papa wouldn't listen," he wanted to cry out.

Because _no._ That was his baby brother. Ozai would never do such a thing. He used to be so small, so tiny, so _innocent_ \--

But Iroh's mind kept bringing back Ursa. How young she was. How happy she used to be before she met Ozai. How bruised she became after she married him.

It made sense, but...

"Why?" he asked his niece, his voice broken.

He saw Azula shrug. "Mama didn't want more babies. Papa got mad."

_It made sense._

Iroh slowly got up from the table, thanking Azula for telling him. He picked up the tea kettle and poured the children another cup of tea. He noticed how his nephew flinched when the kettle got too close to him, and again when a few drops of tea spilled out of the cup.

It made his heart ache.

But he ignored it.

_Just like how he ignored Ursa._

Iroh excused himself, putting the tea kettle down and walking away from the table. His mind was a mess. He wanted to cry.

His brother wouldn't do something that bad, would he?

Iroh thought about Ursa--how she flinched every time he tried to give her a hug back in the day.

How she looked like she was about to cry when Ozai grew a little frustrated with every Pai Sho round he lost.

How she pulled at her sleeves constantly to hide what Iroh _knew_ where bruises.

His mind landed on the children, and then at the days events.

He remembered how they ran away from him when he raised his hand to merely touch them. 

How they cried when he tried to reach them from under the bed.

How scarred his nephew's face was.

How terrified his niece was of crying out loud.

_How skinny they were._

Lu Ten was never _that_ skinny, and he even had a bit of trouble gaining weight.

Lu Ten was healthy.

These children--so small and scared--were not.

Iroh stopped when his eyes caught a picture frame--the same one Azula pointed to when she asked who the baby was. He stared at baby Zuko and Ursa; his heart ached. He tried to look away, but he saw Ozai.

He was smiling. He was holding a baby so _gently_ and smiling widely at the camera.

Iroh looked over at Ursa. She was smiling, too. It looked like a normal family photo. 

But she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse. And if Iroh looked closer at the picture, he could see how wrinkled her sleeves looked.

_Because she always pulled on her sleeves to hide her bruises._

Iroh took the picture frame off of the wall, looking at it. He took the picture out of the frame, hanging the now-empty frame back on the wall. His eyes landed on a box of matches on the table--the ones he used to light the incense sticks. 

He grabbed a match and lit it, watching the flame flicker. He held the small flame to the photo, right above Ozai. Iroh watched as the flame burned his brother's smiling face. He quickly blew out of the flame from the match and brought the burning photo into the nearest bathroom. He held it under a sink and washed out the flame, waving away the smoke as the fire was put out.

Iroh turned off the sink, patted the photo dry with a towel, and looked at it. A hole burnt away what used to be Ozai. All that was left of the photo was baby Zuko and Ursa. 

For some reason, the photo now just looked better. Happier. It was as though it was meant to look like this.

_It was as though Ozai wasn't supposed to be in the frame in the first place._

As hard as it was to admit, his brother was a bad man.

And in Iroh's home, only good people got their picture put on the wall.

*********

Later that night, Iroh served the children dinner. He watched as the two shuffled into the dining room, keeping their heads low and only looking up when they heard a noise or shuffle. Iroh gently called them to the table, making sure they were sitting down before resting a bowl of congee in front of them.

"I know it's been a long day for everyone," Iroh said, sitting down at the table in front of the children. "I suppose it's been a stressful time, too. For that matter, I made you all a simple dish. It's not much, but I don't want to burden you two. Let me know if you like, or if you want more!"

He watched as the children silently took their first bite, smiling as their eyes widened.

"This is really good!" Azula loudly exclaimed, a wide smile forming on her lips. 

But the smile ended just as it appeared. Iroh slightly frowned when he saw his niece quickly drop her spoon and cover her mouth. He looked over at Zuko, noticing how he stared at his sister in worry. His nephew even started to wring his hands together--

_Just like Ursa--_

"I-I'm sorry," Azula apologized, still covering her mouth. "I know I'm not supposed to yell during dinner. I didn't mean to. It won't happen again! I just really liked the food and--"

"My niece, it's okay," Iroh interrupted, putting his hand in the air to silence her. "I'm not mad at you. I'll never be mad at you. In fact, I'm glad that you liked my food!"

Azula lowered her hands, resting them on her lap. Zuko looked at Iroh with a bewildered expression painted on his face.

"R-Really?" Azula asked. She looked as though she was processing his words. "You're not mad?"

"Of course not!" Iroh laughed. "Just because I make good tea doesn't mean my congee is the best! I'm happy it tastes edible, to be honest! A little shocked, even."

"A-And you'll... _never..._ be mad?"

"Never!" Iroh took a bite out of his congee, relishing its flavor. He had really outdone himself this time. 

"Even if..." Azula paused, whispering, "Even if we do something bad?"

"Bad?" Iroh questioned. "You two seem like good kids. If anything, I might just be a little disappointed. But never mad."

"And if you're disappointed, what will do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Silence ensured before Azula asked, "Will you hit us if we're bad?"

Iroh stared at his niece in shock. "No!" He rubbed his temples before explaining, "You two... You two are children. It's wrong to hit children, my niece! Why would I hit you?"

"...Papa hit Zuzu. He never hit me, but he said that I was never bad... I don't know if I'm going to be bad here..."

Iroh wanted to cry. And curse. And scream. His blood boiled.

_How dare Ozai--_

"No, I won't," he said, "Trust me, both of you. I don't know all that your father did as a parent, but what he did was wrong. No child should ever be hit."

He saw Azula fidget in her spot. "So... what will you do then? If you're not going to hit us..."

"I'm going to talk to you. I'll explain to you why I'm disappointed. Together, we can work through the behavior that seems out of place, okay?" When his niece didn't speak up, he added, "I will never raise my hand at you two."

"Did..." Azula took a deep breath in, trying to stop herself from fidgeting. "Is this how you took care of Lu Ten?"

"Well, Lu Ten was an exceptionally bratty child." Iroh laughed, noticing how Azula started to smile at the tiny joke. "But yes, I always talked to him. About what bothered me, or about what I felt needed to change. In exchange, he talked to me about the same thing." He smiled at his niece and nephew gently, seeing how shocked they were. "That being said, if you two feel like I am treating you unfairly, please let me know. Talk to me. I don't want to be a bad figure in your life."

He saw his niece and nephew look at each other. He could see the silent communication happening between them, almost wishing he knew what they were thinking.

But eventually, the children looked back at him.

_And smiled._

The smiles weren't very wide, nor were they very bright. But they held a gentleness to them.

Their smiles held _trust._

It wasn't much, but it almost made Iroh bawl his eyes out right then and there. 

The rest of the dinner went well. Iroh was able to make small talk with the children (mostly just Azula; Zuko wouldn't talk to him yet) and found out more about them.

Azula was smart and did well in school. Her best friends in Fire Fountain City were two girls named Ty Lee and Mai, as well as a boy named Aang (but he moved away a long time ago). She liked chocolate and vanilla cake. Her favorite animals were cats, but only when they were domesticated.

His niece told him about Zuko, but Iroh wasn't sure how much of it was accurate. For the sake of his niece, he believed everything she told him. 

His nephew's friends were the same as Azula's. He liked red velvet cake, especially if it had chocolate icing as a decorative. His favorite animals were turtles and ducks, but he was a little afraid of touching them (he doesn't want to hurt them, according to Azula). He loved plays and theatre performances. His favorite flowers were fire lilies.

_Just like Ursa._

"And he's the best brother in the entire world!" Azula concluded, smiling widely at her brother. "And not just the world! He's the best brother in the entire _universe!_ "

Iroh laughed at that statement, assuring Azula that Zuko did in fact seem like a great brother. He saw his nephew blush, looking down at his lap when the older man praised him. In return, he told the children about himself.

He liked to play Pai Sho. He made a lot of friends at the White Lotus Senior Center, and he thought his friends would be thrilled to meet his nephew and niece. He liked tea more than any flavorful meal, and owned a tea shop called the Jasmine Dragon. Most of the children in the Upper Ring called him Uncle Dragon or Uncle Tea, especially if they came by to his shop.

Dinner was soon finished, and Iroh carried the dishes over to the kitchen. After much protest and resistance from the children, who just wanted to help him out, Iroh compromised and said they could help towel dry and put away the cleaned bowls and spoons.

For some reason, dishes were done much faster that day.

Once everything was cleaned and put away, Iroh asked the children what they wanted to do before bedtime. 

Azula and Zuko looked at each other, not knowing if they should be honest or if they should play it safe. The entire day was a bit confusing for them.

Why did their uncle care if they wanted to do something before sleeping?

The two siblings internally debated amongst themselves. Their uncle told them that he wouldn't be mad. He told them he wouldn't hit them.

But one couldn't be too sure, right?

"Do you have..." Azula cleared her throat. "...Would it be alright if we read books?"

Books were a good choice. Their father would be proud. It made them sound smart and intellectual and--

"...Books?" Iroh laughed, as though he was told a funny joke. "You two seem like well-educated children! I don't know one child that reads books in this city!"

Azula and Zuko look at Iroh in confusion. Then shock.

And then more confusion.

"What?" Iroh asked, before it dawned on him. "Oh... You're serious?"

Azula nodded carefully. Had she said something wrong?

Did their uncle want them to say something else?

"Well," Iroh laughed again--this time sounding apologetic. "...You see, I don't have any books at home."

The two children widened their eyes to mirror their shock. 

"What do you mean?" Azula asked, a little nervous about what her uncle was going to say.

"I don't read much, per say," Iroh explained. "I get so busy with work that I don't find time to read. If I do need a book for personal entertainment, I just go to the library--but that's only once in a few weeks!"

"So..." Azula fidgeted. "...You don't like books?"

"On the contrary, I love books! They are insightful and useful in the long run! They jog my old brain at times, too!" Iroh smiled at his niece. "But I prefer to watch the TV more than anything!"

Azula and Zuko's brain almost short-circuited. _Almost._

They had a television back in their home in Fire Fountain City, but they weren't allowed to use it. Their father made it clear that using the TV would result in a severe punishment. He had broken their mother's nose once for secretly going behind his back while he was at work. 

Thinking back to what happened last time, the two children were a little nervous. What would happen this time?

Would their uncle break their noses for asking...?

"I apologize for not having books for you..." Iroh sighed. "...But, understandably, I do have a TV! Would you like me to put on some cartoons for you?"

This was a trick, wasn't it?

"Tomorrow, we can go pick up some books from the library," the man offered. He went to the two children and gently pushed them to the living room. "Come this way! For now, let's watch one of my favorite shows!"

Azula and Zuko _really didn't know_ what to do _._

This was a trick.

A horrible, _horrible_ trick. 

They let themselves be led to the living room and seated on a couch. It seemed new, but comfortable. They watched as their uncle picked up a remote and turned the TV on, flipping the channels until he got to his desired station. 

"I pre-recorded these episodes so we can watch together!" Iroh explained, sitting down on the couch next to the children. "It's one of my favorite shows! I believe it's called Spongebob Squarepants!"

Spongebob... Square... Pants?

Azula and Zuko watched as the animation played. It was weird.

But funny.

A talking square making food while taking care of his pet snail--who oddly sounded like a cat. He had a blue neighbor with four legs, two arms, and a big nose. His best friend was a pink starfish that lived under a rock-- _and acted like it to._

It was... entertaining.

They heard their uncle laugh loudly at the jokes, throwing life advice around as soon as the talking sponge was caught in a predicament. Soon enough, Azula let her guard down just enough to enjoy the show, laughing loudly along with Iroh. The two talked to each other, trying to guide the talking sponge out of his problem.

"You must look inside of yourself, Spongebob!" Iroh advised. "The true answer to your obstacles must come from within!"

"Who cares about that!" Azula complained, glaring at the blue grumpy octopus. "Destroy the clarinet, Spongebob! It's the only solution!"

"But, niece!" Iroh gasped. "You must understand that Mr. Squidward _loves_ his clarinet! He would be devastated if it was destroyed!"

"He's rude to Spongebob, though!" Azula huffed. "He deserves to have his clarinet tampered with."

"Sometimes, neighbors just need a bit of love and patience before they can start to give."

"Sometimes, neighbors are annoying and deserve to be evicted."

"That--" Iroh paused, thinking over that statement. "...Actually, no, you're right. Some neighbors don't deserve rights."

As the two turned back to the animation, continuing a small conversation about what was going on, Zuko stared at the TV warily.

It was all so weird.

Did their uncle want to wait for the animation to be over before he hit them?

The man said he wouldn't, but...

... _But it didn't make sense._

Zuko listened to his sister talk to their uncle, almost as though she was carefree.

Almost as though she trusted him.

But Zuko didn't trust him.

Everyone he trusted before either hurt him--

_Or died._

*********

When the few pre-recorded episodes were finished, Iroh looked at his wrist watch and gasped.

"Oh dear Agni!" The man jumped off the couch in a hurry. "It's almost midnight! Way past your bedtime! Come with me!"

Zuko and Azula looked at each other in confusion before getting off the couch slowly. They followed their uncle into the hallway, wondering why he sounded so worried.

It was almost midnight. It wasn't _that_ late. 

The two siblings tailed behind their uncle before stopping in front of a hallway cabinet. They silently watched as the man dug through it and pulled out two towels.

"Here are your towels! I'm not sure if you have any in your suitcase, but if you don't, then these are now officially yours!" Iroh handed them the towels. "I apologize for keeping you up for so long! I must have gotten carried away."

"Um..." Azula looked at the towel before looking back up at her uncle. "...Thank you...?"

"I'm sure you two feel really tired, but it's best if you shower before you go to bed. It's been a long journey to Ba Sing Se; I'm appalled at myself that I didn't let you two shower the moment you got here! Do you two know where the showers are?"

The children nodded.

"It'd be best if you used the showers closest to your rooms," Iroh advised. "It will be convenient! That way, you can just slid into your rooms once you're done!"

Azula clutched the towel in her hands tightly, feeling a little out of place. "...May I ask a question?"

"Of course!" Iroh smiled. "You don't ever have to ask, my niece. Same for you, nephew."

"...Why do you care so much about the time?"

"Because it's late! You two need sleep!"

Azula and Zuko stared at their uncle.

Did they have a bedtime now? Was this a new rule they had to follow?

Was their uncle mad? Was this a punishment?

"What's wrong?" Iroh asked, a little worried when the children looked puzzled.

"It's just..." Azula cleared her throat, not wanting to correct her uncle, but... "It's not that late. Isn't it a bit early?"

Iroh looked at his niece and nephew; concern wrapped itself around his mind. It was almost midnight. Shouldn't they be feeling tired?

"Azula, Zuko," Iroh gently prodded. "...When do you two normally sleep?"

"Um..." Azula fidgeted, looking at her towel to escape Iroh's gaze. "...12:30? Or... one in the morning?"

"And when do you get up?"

"Six o'clock on school days. Ten o'clock on weekends and school holidays." Azula paused, shifting her eyes. "...Or... at least I do. Zuzu wakes up earlier... and goes to bed later."

Iroh looked at his niece and nephew, shocked way beyond words at what they just told him. For the first time, when he took a closer look, he noticed the eyebags under the children's eyes--dark and heavy. Was it normal for children to have eyebags?

Lu Ten's skin was pretty much clear when he was kid. He only started having eyebags when he was a teenager, but as a child? 

Iroh's blood boiled. What had his brother put these children through?

_How dare Ozai--_

"That's..." Iroh sighed, his anger turning into concern as he looked over the children. "...That's unhealthy."

When the siblings looked at him in confusion, he wanted to cry.

"Children," he explained as gently as he could, "need sleep. A lot of sleep. It seems to me that you two haven't been getting much--especially you, nephew. That needs to change."

Zuko flinched, feeling singled out. Was Iroh mad at him? The boy started to wring his hands together, almost dropping the towel he was holding.

"I'm not mad," Iroh quickly covered, noticing Zuko's little anxiety-driven habit. "I just want you two to be healthy."

It seemed to have calmed the boy's nerves down a little bit, since he started to wring his hands less tensely than before. Azula looked over at her brother and tried to catch his eye, but the boy started looking at the ground.

Iroh internally cursed at himself.

He hadn't meant to single the boy out. He was just making a slight observation--

_\--But he kept fucking up._

"Why don't you two start taking your showers?" Iroh offered, feeling the need to change the topic. "Then we can all go to sleep."

The two children nodded and walked away from the man. Iroh watched as they rounded the corner and went into separate bathrooms; both of the bathrooms were closest to their rooms, as Iroh had advised before. Once they had shut the door, the man sighed and put his head in his hands.

He had to try harder.

Why was being a parent so hard?

Technically, he was just their guardian--their uncle. But Ozai fucked up as a father so badly that Iroh felt the need to step in as a father.

_How dare Ozai--_

Looking back at Zuko, Iroh's heart dropped to his stomach.

He already lost one son six years ago.

He'd be damned if he lost another.

*********

Zuko debated whether he should take a warm shower or a cold one. If he chose to take a warm shower, then his uncle might get mad at him for wasting the hot water.

On the other hand, a cold shower would most likely be unpleasant.

But what would his uncle want...?

He sighed to himself before turning the knob, flinching when the cold water from the showerhead above rained down on his scar. The boy moved his hand above his head, shielding the water from hitting his injury too much.

It helped, even if it was only by a little bit.

Zuko didn't wait for his body to get used to the cold water; he just started washing himself. He almost forgot his need to shower back on the plane ride. The dirty feeling came back, making him involuntarily gag. He grabbed a shower loofah hanging from the knob and started to scrub himself until his skin was red, not caring if parts of his skin started bleeding.

He just moved on and washed his hair roughly, tugging at his strands to get the _feeling of hands off--_

The twelve-year-old didn't know how long he'd been in the shower, but once he was done, he still felt... _dirty._

Zuko toweled himself off and wrapped the cloth around his waist. His hair still dripped wet, but he figured he could just let it air dry as he slept. He opened the bathroom door and looked around the hallway, making sure no one was there before he ran to his new bedroom. Once inside, he quickly went over to his suitcase and dug through it, finding clothes to wear.

Should he wear the branded clothes he barely touched? Would his uncle be mad at him for being too carefree?

Zuko shook his head and grabbed a shirt with three tears (he counted, and it was his best in-door shirt) and baggy shorts. His hand reached out to grab a pair of briefs before stopping.

Would his uncle...?

Would he come by at night to...?

If he wore the briefs, he would feel a little more comfortable. Especially in a new house.

 _But Uncle Zhao didn't like it when you wore underwear,_ the dark voice reminded him.

Would his uncle be mad at him if he came by...?

Zuko hesitantly discarded the briefs and pushed them deeper into his suitcase. He wouldn't wear them; he didn't want to make his uncle mad. He quickly put on the shirt and baggy shorts, making sure to avoid his scar as he pulled his shirt over his head. Just as he finished changing, he heard a knock on the door. The boy looked at the door in worry.

Was his uncle here already?

Was this why he made a big deal about sleeping early?

Zuko's anxiety rose as the door opened. Iroh peaked into the room and smiled at Zuko.

"All done showering?" he asked the boy.

Zuko nodded.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Iroh asked. "Would you like me to tuck you in? Lu Ten never passed up a chance to be tucked in, though I doubt most teenagers are like him..."

His uncle laughed, as though he was recalling a distant memory. Zuko's anxiety increased.

Did his uncle want to tuck him in?

Was he testing him?

Did he have to say yes?

If he says no, would he be punished?

Uncle Iroh said he wouldn't hit a child, but Uncle Zhao told him he wasn't a child--he was a toy.

Did Uncle Iroh know that his nephew was a toy?

Zuko started to wring his hands tensely, digging his nails into his palms every so often. It was getting harder to breath. He didn't realize when his uncle started to call out of him.

"--ko? Zuko? Nephew, are you alright?" When Zuko came to, he saw his uncle look at him in worry. "I'm sorry, nephew. Did I do something?"

Zuko didn't respond.

"Would you like to be left alone?" Iroh offered, concern dripping in every word he uttered.

The boy found himself slowly nodding.

He saw his uncle nod. "Alright, I'll be in my room if you need me, okay?"

Zuko nodded again, watching the man gently close his bedroom door. When he didn't hear another sound, he carefully made his way over to the bed. Just as he was about to climb into bed, he looked at the ceiling, noticing the shining light bulbs.

Right, he should turn off the lights before bed.

Zuko walked over to the light switch by the door and turned the lights off, freezing in the dark.

It was too dark.

He couldn't see and--

_\--it was too dark to be alone._

Zuko quickly turned the lights back on, shaking as he looked around the room.

He was alone.

He had never been afraid of the dark before. Why was he afraid now?

_Dark room. Moonlight. Door opened. Door closed. Laughter. Curses. Hands. Dirty. Tears._

_Dirty._

_Dirty._

_Dirty--_

Zuko shook his head, sniffling. He pushed back the tears gathering in his eyes. He shouldn't cry. He couldn't.

He didn't deserve to cry.

 _It was all your fault,_ the dark voice laughed. _Why cry over something that you caused?_

The boy looked back up at the lights on the ceiling, lost in thought.

If he turned the lights off, the room would be dark. And for some reason, he was scared of the dark now. 

_Uncle Zhao. Dark room. Touching. Screaming. Pain--_

But if he left the lights on, then Uncle Iroh might get mad. Because the lights would add on to the electricity bill.

And his uncle might hurt him if the bill gets too high.

Zuko gulped and looked at the light switch. He took a deep breath in and looked over at the bed, coordinating in his mind how many steps it would take in a certain direction in order to make it safely to bed. The boy then closed his eyes and turned the lights off, running to his bed.

He almost tripped, but he felt the bed and hopped on top of it. His hands searched for the blanket, and once it was found, he pulled it over his head and huddled into himself. As he hid under the blanket, he counted to sixty over and over again.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five. 

Six.

Soon enough, an hour had passed. He didn't hear anyone open the door, nor did he hear any footsteps. Was it safe to come out?

Zuko slowly raised his head out of the blanket and looked around, half expecting to see someone. When his good eye adjusted to the dark, the boy did a thorough scan of the room.

No one.

...Why?

With a sigh, he laid down on the bed. He was alone. He was safe.

But he felt uncomfortable. 

The bed was too soft. The blanket was too heavy. It all felt weird.

Zuko found himself getting out of the bed and carefully walking to a corner of the room--the farthest one from the door. He slowly laid down on the ground, feeling cold wooden tiles press against his sides. His scar ached as he pressed it to the floor, so the boy put his arm under his head to provide his head some support. He pressed his back against the wall, looking at the door and expecting it to open.

It stayed closed.

Zuko thought about going back to bed, or at least going back and bringing the blanket to the floor with him.

But his father made it clear that he didn't deserve a bed.

 _You slept in Azula's bed,_ the dark voice scoffed. _You can't even honor the words of a dead man._

He didn't deserve comfort.

He didn't want to dirty the bed sheets.

He didn't want to ruin the heavy blanket.

With clouded thoughts, Zuko found himself dozing off. 

*********

_The door creaked open. Zuko woke up, still a little droopy with sleep. His tiredness quickly vanished when he saw who opened the bedroom door._

_"U-Uncle Zhao?" Zuko froze._

_"Toys don't talk," the man reminded him, scowling a bit. "And why are you on a bed? Do you think you deserve it?"_

_Zuko looked down and gasped. Why was he sitting on a bed?_

_He was on the floor. In the corner._

_No, no, no._

_This was wrong._

_Something was wrong._

_"I think I'll have to punish you for it," Zhao muttered, a smirk forming on his lips._

_Zuko looked up and shook his head in protest. He didn't want to be hit, nor did he want to be--_

_"No?" Zhao mocked, walking closer to the boy. He cradled Zuko's face in his palm, cooing and wiping away tears. "Don't worry then. I won't punish you."_

_Zuko was about to thank him; politeness earned him better treatment. He cried harder, feeling a little_ _relieved until--_

_"But your uncle will," Zhao sneered, letting go of Zuko's face and slapping him._

_The boy turned his head to the door just in time to see his uncle walk into the room, undoing the belt on his waist._

_"Hello, nephew," Iroh greeted, his face showing everything but kindness._

_This was wrong. Everything was wrong._

_Uncle Iroh was nice, wasn't he?_

_Zuko felt sobs building in his chest as his uncle came closer to him._

_"Strip and get on your knees," Iroh commanded, wrapping the end of his now-undone belt around his hand._

_Zuko didn't move. He couldn't._

_He didn't want to._

_"Did I stutter?" Iroh spat. "On your knees. Now."_

_Zuko shook his head, begging his uncle to reconsider. He put his hands above his face to shield himself, crying loudly as he pleaded. He felt his chest constrict._

_The boy screamed when he felt a rough hand grab his arm and yank him out of the bed. Part of the heavy blanket pooled on the ground as he was thrown onto the wooden tiles. Zuko looked up and saw his uncle holding him down, forcing him onto his knees. The cold wooden floor did nothing but add to his panic._

_"Don't scream, or I'll just keep going," Iroh commanded, raising his belt in the air._

_Zuko sobbed, looking at his uncle's face, trying to find the kind man that greeted him at the train station. His eyes darted to the hand raising the belt. A scream followed when he saw his uncle bring the belt down and--_

*********

**CW: descriptions of child abuse**

As far as Azula was concerned, her first night at her uncle's house went well. She went to sleep, feeling a wave of calmness hit her.

Her uncle was nice.

He was kind.

He said he wouldn't hit her nor Zuko.

For the first time in her life, everything seemed fine.

As she dozed into a peaceful slumber, she felt herself smile into a dream. It was all going so well. Everything was perfect. 

Until it wasn't.

She woke up at nearly four in the morning by a loud bang. The girl quickly sat up on her bed; her heart pounded against her chest frantically. Ahead on her, she saw her uncle by the door. He was out of breath, breathing heavily, and his eyes were wide in absolute fear and worry.

"Azula!" he called out, rushing to her. She could see his hands shake as he reached out to her. "My niece, are you alright?"

She nodded, confused and terrified. Why did her uncle look so scared?

"Why were you screaming?" he asked her.

"H-Huh?" she stuttered--her confusion growing. "Uncle, I didn't scream..."

And then she heard it. One look at her uncle told her that he heard it as well.

A blood curdling scream.

Both uncle and niece looked at each other before rushing out of room together, running down the hallway. Their minds raced as they reached Zuko's bedroom door, swinging it open. Iroh quickly searched for the light switch, flicking the lights on in the room. He watched his niece run to the farthest corner of the bedroom--his blood running cold as his eyes landed on his nephew.

The boy was lying on ground, shaking and screaming. Fat tears ran down the child's face--pain written all over his expression.

Iroh watched as Azula got on the ground and shook Zuko awake. He kept screaming, lost in a dream, until Azula yelled at him to wake up. At once, the boy jolted up with another scream and started pushing his sister away. Iroh remained frozen in his spot as he watched the ordeal.

" _No, no, no, no, no--_ " his nephew kept repeating, his eyes frantically looking around the room in a panic. "--Please, no. Please!"

"Zuzu, it's me," Azula pleaded, trying to get close to her brother as he kept pushing her away. "It's me, Azula. Zuzu, breathe!"

"I-I'm s-sor-ry," the boy wailed, closing his eyes shut and backing into the corner. "D-Don't... I-I'm s-sorry f-f-for--"

"Zuzu, breathe! Breathe in, please!"

"--s-scre-eaming... I-I d-didn't m-mean to! I-I..."

"Please, just breathe... Zuzu, it's okay! No one's mad. Please breathe!"

"...W-Won't ha-happen ag-again..." The boy brought his legs to his chest and hid his face in his knees, grabbing a fistful of his hair roughly and pulling at the strands in panic. "D-Didn't m-mean t-to... S-Sor-ry, I-I..."

"Zuzu, it was just a nightmare. I promise. Please, j-just breathe... Y-You're not breathing..."

Iroh, in the midst of hearing his nephew's pleas and his niece's panicked instructions, found it in him to move. He was shaking badly, leaning against the wall to stop himself from falling to his knees. He could hear his niece start crying; his nephew was coughing from his lack of breath.

As he made it to the corner, Iroh quickly dropped to his knees and gathered Zuko into his arms. He felt the boy stiffen in his arms before starting to thrash violently, wailing and screaming in what seemed to be fear. Iroh carefully guided his nephew's head to his chest, right above his heart, and started to breathe in and out deeply.

"Breathe, nephew," Iroh whispered, hoping his heartbeat would help the boy. "Breathe in... Please, nephew. Breathe in..."

Zuko kept thrashing around, trying to push himself away from his uncle. " _No, no, no, no, no, no, no--_ "

"Zuko, it's just me. Your uncle. I'm not going to hurt you." Iroh tightening his hold on the boy, not wanting to let him go. "Please, nephew, breathe. You need to breathe."

"U-Uncle?" Zuko stilled, frozen in his uncle's arms.

"It's just me, nephew," Iroh soothed, thinking that the boy was slowly coming out of the panic-induced trance. "Just me. I'm here. Your Uncle Iroh is here."

Iroh gently ran his hands through the boy's hair, grimacing at how cold the locks felt. Had the child not dried his hair before sleeping? His hands worked through the tangles in the hair strands, sighing to himself when he realized his nephew hadn't brushed his hair before bed either.

But at least Zuko was calmer now, right?

Iroh smiled to himself, happy that he was able to help. 

But every feeling of calmness and relief were thrown out the window when he felt the child in his arms start to sob. Iroh froze, listening as the sobs turn into loud tortured wails. 

"I-I'm sorry," Zuko choked out. "D-Don't... D-Did-n't mean t-to scre-eam..."

"Zuko..." Iroh gaped, not knowing what to say.

"D-Didn't kn-now... I-I... So-Sorry, wo-on't scream ag-again... I-I..."

Iroh felt tears prick his eyes. His nephew hadn't spoken to him the whole day, and now that he was finally talking to him, he was apologizing. Apologizing for something Iroh knew the boy couldn't control, and it was all because of--

"...N-No more, pl-lease..." The boy wailed harder, bringing his hands to his face and shielding it from _something._ "I-I'll be g-good... W-Won't sc-cream aga-ain..."

No, not something. _Someone._

"...U-Uncle I-Ir-roh p-please..." 

Iroh held the boy even tighter, thinking that the child wanted support. That was, until--

"...P-Plea-ease... I-I don't wa-anna... H-Hurts..." 

Was he hurting the boy? Iroh loosened his hold slightly.

"No, no, n-no... Pl-lease no... I-I'll be g-good..." 

Iroh felt his heart drop for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He thought back to what Smellerbee had hold him over the call. Did his nephew think--

"P-Please, I'll b-be good... A-Any-ything..." Zuko wailed louder. "I-I'll do an-anything... No m-more pl-please... U-Uncle, n-no mo-more..."

Iroh wanted to scream.

Because that phone call a few hours ago...

_"The medical report shows signs of sexual assault," Smellerbee told him._

_"What do you mean?" Iroh asked, his throat closing up._

_The woman on the other line paused before sighing, "The doctors didn't just find signs of physical assault. They did a test and found traces of unknown DNA near the boy's--"_

_"Who?" Iroh interrupted._

_"Well... no one knows for sure."_

_"What do you mean 'no one knows'?!"_

_"Sir, please, I don't have the answer to that. But you need to calm down for me to tell you what you requested to know."_

_Iroh apologized, but his blood boiled. The poor boy--his nephew--went through something so..._

_"As I was saying," Smellerbee continued, "The doctors don't know who it was. They have been trying to ask your nephew, but he kept fading in and out of consciousness due to his injuries with the burn. Police thinks its the murderer... but..."_

_"...But?" Iroh waited, growing ever so impatient._

_"...But the tests done date the evidence back to a couple of days before the murder."_

_Iroh wanted to throw up._

_A couple of days?_

_Did that mean...?_

_Did Ozai...?_

_To his own son...?_

_Would his own brother do such a thing...?_

_Iroh didn't want to believe it._

_He couldn't._

_He shouldn't._

_But..._

Zuko wailed louder, growing limp in Iroh's arms. The man looked at his nephew and figured he was wearing himself down. He was about to pass out; Iroh couldn't let him.

"Zuko," the man's voice cracked, "You... It's only a nightmare, my nephew."

The boy kept wailing, keeping his face shielded.

"Zuko, I would never..." Iroh had to stop himself from crying. "...I wouldn't ever, _ever_ hurt you. Not like that. It's just a nightmare. I'd never hurt you."

Iroh looked over at his niece, noting how worried she looked. And scared. And _confused._

Did Azula not know? Did she not know what was going on?

If she didn't know--and Iroh doubted she did--would that have been a good thing or a bad thing?

Because if she didn't know, then it might not have happened to her. Right?

Right...?

"Nephew, please," Iroh begged, turning his attention back on the boy. "Please breathe. Breathe in. You're safe here."

It took a bit of coaxing.

But it worked.

Zuko took a shaky breath in, hiccuping and coughing.

"That's it," Iroh praised, pushing down sobs that wanted to appear. "You're doing well. Now breathe out. Slowly, nephew, please."

And Zuko did.

It was just as shaky, but it was working.

The man continued his coaxing, trying to get the boy to breathe more evenly. Slowly, but surely, his nephew started settle down. His hands came down from shielding his face, and his wails turned into light sobs--and soon, just sniffles. 

"You're safe here," Iroh repeated, wiping the boy's tears away. "I promise, my nephew. I won't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not here. Never."

The twelve-year-old didn't say another word. Instead, he stared ahead, letting himself be embraced by his uncle.

Iroh knew not to bring up the past. He also knew not to mention the nightmare. He didn't want to trigger the boy any more than what already happened--never again, if possible. But there was a question on his mind...

He was afraid of what Zuko would tell him, but...

"Nephew," he asked, "What were you doing lying on the floor?"

"Sleeping..." the boy whispered, his voice hoarse. "...I was sleeping."

"On the floor?"

The boy nodded. Iroh wished his tears away.

Not only had his nephew not dried his hair, but he was sleeping on the cold floor.

 _He could have gotten sick_ , Iroh's mind scolded. _He would be sick and afraid, and you would have been the worst uncle for letting it happen._

"Why were you sleeping on the floor, Zuko?" Iroh prodded, keeping his voice low and gentle. "You have a bed and blanket, my nephew. Why not use them?"

Zuko didn't respond, but Iroh could see a troubled expression play onto his face.

"Let's get you to bed," Iroh sighed, not wanting to push further. He didn't think he wanted to hear the answer. "Come. Let's--"

He was interrupted by a tiny mutter. Iroh looked at his nephew, asking him what he said. When the boy spoke again, Iroh had to strain his ears to hear.

"I don't deserve a bed," Zuko whispered.

He... _what?_

"What do you mean?" Iroh didn't think he heard correctly. 

Zuko shook his head. "I don't deserve a bed."

"Why not, nephew?"

"I-I don't..." The boy started to cry again. "I-I don't deserve a-a bed..."

Iroh cradled his nephew, shushing him as he cried. The man looked over at his niece, his eyes holding a question in them. Perhaps she knew why.

And she did.

"Papa didn't give Zuzu a bed," Azula explained, her voice barely a whisper. Her nose was red, and she looked like she was about to cry. "Papa said Zuzu didn't deserve one."

"Why...?" Iroh felt a tear roll down his face.

Azula shrugged. "Papa said Zuzu was weak. And weak scum don't deserve luxury."

If Ozai wasn't dead yet, he would have been killed by Iroh's hand.

_How dare Ozai--_

Zuko wasn't weak; he was _traumatized._

Even if the boy was weak, who the fuck would deprive a _child_ from having a place to sleep? Iroh knew Ozai could afford to give his son a bed, so why didn't he?

Did he make the poor child sleep on the floor?

Did Zuko even have a blanket?

Did Azula...?

"Don't worry," his niece reassured him, "I had a bed. Papa said I wasn't weak."

That reasoning was so _horrible,_ but Iroh nodded. "Okay... Then, just Zuko?"

Azula nodded. "And mama."

_Just like Ursa--_

Iroh wanted the world to swallow him whole. He looked down at the tiny child weeping in his arms.

The boy had been through so much.

And after everything, the boy was still _alive._

Iroh knew what he had to do. He had to create a safe space for these children. He needed to be there for them.

This was a sign--another chance.

He wouldn't fuck up a second time.

Looking at the boy, Iroh sadly sighed. The poor lad had cried too much for one day. If only there was a way to stop his tears.

_If only..._

What would cheer Lu Ten up when he was down? 

The man thought back to his days, painful memories coming into his mind. He didn't want to remember, but for the sake of Zuko...

"Leaves from the vine..." Iroh sang, gently and softly. "Falling so slow... Like fragile, tiny shells... Drifting in the foam..."

He heard his nephew sniffle and started to rock the boy in his arms, trying to soothe him.

"Little soldier boy... Come marching home..." Iroh paused, hearing leveled breathing from the boy. "...Brave soldier boy... Comes marching home..."

Iroh loosened his hold on his nephew just a little, but still embraced him securely. He looked at the boy's face; his heart shattered into a million pieces when his eyes landed on the scar. 

But he was asleep. His nephew was asleep. He heard the lullaby and fell asleep--

_Just like Lu Ten--_

Iroh looked over at his niece and noticed how she was starting to doze off. As carefully as he could, he gathered Zuko into his arms and carried him to the bed, gently resting his head on the pillow. After a small forethought, Iroh went over to the boy's suitcase and picked up the towel he left on top. He went over to the child and carefully lifted his head, patting his hair until it became a little warmer.

"Azula," he whispered, calling out for the girl. 

He watched as the nine-year-old rubbed her eyes and walked up to him. 

"My niece, I have a favor," he said, waiting for the girl to nod. "May you please sleep in this room tonight? For your brother?"

He really didn't need to finish his sentence; Azula started to crawl onto the bed the minute she heard the words 'in this room'. Iroh watched as she settled herself next to Zuko, lifting the heavy blanket over both of them. He waited until he was sure the two were asleep before exiting the room, flicking off the lights and gently shutting the door. After another thought, he reopened the door and walked away--just in case the children needed him at any point in the night.

He walked to his own room, lying down on his bed when he got there. He didn't bother to close his door either.

Iroh put his head into his pillow and screamed, silently crying until he fell asleep.

_How dare Ozai hurt these children?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of announcements!!
> 
> 1) It really doesn't impact the plot much, but I went back into the previous chapters and changed the animals. I thought about keeping the fauna from the avatar-verse, but decided to just use "real animals" in a way. For example, instead of turtleducks, there's turtles and ducks. Instead of a flying bison, it's just a bison.
> 
> 2) College is somehow piling more and more work than before... I'll try to update as much as I can, but please note that the updates won't be as frequent. Worst case scenario, there will be a monthly update. But if all goes well, please expect a biweekly update!! I'm sincerely sorry for this new change!
> 
> 3) To make up for lost time, I wrote another fanfic! It's called "Wish I Were..." and it's a Sokka/Yue and Sokka/Suki pairing. Check it out if it interests you!! 
> 
> See you next update! <3


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Azula try to adjust to life with Iroh. Iroh is just trying his best to be a good uncle, but he can only do so much. Meanwhile, a new friendship blossoms in the city of Ba Sing Se.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: character death(s), racism, child abuse, rape/sexual assault of a minor(s), pedophilia, manipulation, gaslighting, panic/anxiety attacks, mental breakdowns, violence/physical assault, mention of ethnic cleansing
> 
> Small Note -- I added more tags above, so please be aware of those!

The next morning, Iroh woke up with a dull headache. He wiped at the tear tracks on his face and got out of bed, heading out into the hallway. The sun barely shined in its glory, and one look at the living room clock told the man that it was just a little past six in the morning.

Iroh whipped up some peppermint tea and poured it into three cups--setting two of those cups aside for the children. He figured they would be up soon, and from what Azula told him yesterday about Zuko...

He heard quiet footsteps making themselves out of the hallway. He waited, feeling like he knew who it was. Sure enough, it was Zuko.

The boy walked into the living room with his head down, wringing his hands. As soon as he looked up and saw Iroh in the kitchen, he froze.

"Zuko," Iroh called gently. "Why are you awake so soon?"

No response. Instead, he saw his nephew slowly back away.

"Nephew?" Iroh grew worried. He stepped out of the kitchen and walked over to Zuko. "Nephew, I'm sorry. Did I overstep yesterday? Are you mad--?"

"N-No!" Zuko yelled, clutching the front of his shirt in a panic. "I-I'm... I-I... d-did I-I..."

Iroh stopped in his tracks, staring at the boy. Did he do something wrong?

He heard quick footsteps making their way into the hallway. His eyes landed on his niece; her hair disarrayed and her eyes puffy with exhaustion. 

"Zuzu?" she said, her morning voice laced in sleep. 

The girl quickly ran to her brother and wrapped her arms around him, walking him back to his room. Iroh watched as Azula pulled Zuko back into the hallway, whispering to him as she did so.

 _"It's okay, Zuzu,"_ she kept repeating. _"It's just Uncle Iroh."_

It wasn't long before Iroh heard loud sobs similar to the ones from last night. His heart ached, knowing full well that Zuko was going into another panic attack so early in the morning. He wanted to walk to his nephew--hold him and comfort him through the attack.

But he couldn't _move._

Iroh was frozen in his spot. 

And what if he made another mistake?

What did he do just now?

Why was Zuko crying?

In the background, he could hear the sobs lessen. He could hear Azula's voice, telling her brother that it was alright. He heard the door to a bedroom click shut and footsteps walk back into the living room. He watched as Azula stopped a few feet away from him and started to fidget.

"Um..." She looked away. "...Zuzu is sleeping now."

Iroh nodded.

"And he, well..." She sighed, looking at her feet. 

He gulped. "What happened...?"

"Zuzu always woke up first," she explained, growing a bit quieter. "But if papa woke up first, he would hit Zuzu for being lazy. And for not having breakfast ready. And for being asleep."

So that meant...

Oh...

_Oh..._

"He though I was going to hit him," Iroh concluded, his voice cracking. 

Azula nodded.

"I..." Iroh shook his head. "I wasn't going to hit him... I wanted to make sure he was okay; I didn't want to--"

"I know," Azula interrupted, smiling at her uncle gently. "It's okay. Just Zuzu... he's..."

"Did... Is Zuko alright? From last night?"

Azula shrugged. "I don't know. I hope so, but I think not."

Iroh nodded. A small silence followed--neither of them knowing what to say to each other. They stood in the living room, hearing the clock ticking in the background. The vague smell of peppermint tea filled their senses.

A thought came to Iroh. He looked at his niece, smiling back at her.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, walking toward the kitchen. "I made peppermint tea."

Behind him, Azula shook her head. "I don't like tea."

Iroh stood, looking back at his niece with shock. "But you drank it yesterday..." After some thought, he asked, "Did it taste bad? I may have added less sugar than before; perhaps that's why you might not have liked it--"

"No, it's just..." Azula sighed, looking back down at her feet. Her fidgeting halted. "...I don't like tea at all. I didn't want you to be mad yesterday, so I drank it."

Iroh nodded solemnly. Did he force her to drink tea? He didn't mean to. 

"You didn't force me to drink your tea, uncle," Azula reassured, as though she read his thoughts. 

"I didn't? Are you sure?"

The girl nodded, smiling.

Iroh sighed, a bit relieved. He turned back and headed to the kitchen, grabbing his cup of peppermint tea and sipping it. He saw his niece walk over and drag a dining table chair to the kitchen counter. She situated it and sat down, staring at her uncle from across the counter. Her hands reached over and grabbed a cup of peppermint tea for herself.

"You don't have to drink it, Azula," Iroh quickly protested, trying to take the cup away. 

Azula pulled her cup away from her uncle's hands. "It's okay, Uncle Iroh!"

"But you don't like tea, my niece! Please don't force yourself to drink it."

Azula sighed, looking down at her cup. She let her uncle take her cup away from her hands.

"I don't like tea..." she whispered. "But I like spending time with you."

The man smiled at her gently. "You don't have to drink tea in order to spend time with me, Azula."

"I know..." She paused, fidgeting in her seat. "...But it feels weird."

"What feels weird?"

"...I don't know," she admitted. "You're drinking tea, but I'm drinking nothing. It feel weird that I'm watching you do something, but I'm not doing it."

Iroh nodded, looking at her cup of peppermint tea. He went to the sink and dumped it out, washing the cup and drying it. 

"Do you like apple juice, Azula?" he asked, looking over at her.

She nodded slowly.

Iroh went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of apple juice, pouring it into the tea cup. He then set the cup down in front of her, smiling at her knowingly.

"To do as the other person does establishes bonds of trust and companionship," he explained philosophically. "Sometimes, people do things they see in front of them because they don't want to feel out of place. I'm assuming you feel the same way, my niece."

"Yeah... That makes sense." Azula looked at the apple juice in the tea cup. "Mama, Zuzu, and I always ate together when papa wasn't home. I guess it became a habit."

"Habits are usually a good thing, my niece. They provide a routine for one's own peace of mind."

"Uncle, are you okay with me not drinking tea?" She looked up at the man, concern flashing in her eyes. "Are you mad that I don't like tea?"

"Well, it sure is a bit disappointing that my famous tea can't change your mind," Iroh laughed, "But I could never be mad. It's just tea."

Azula smirked. " _Just_ tea?"

"Oh Agni..." Iroh gaped in horror. "D-Did I just say that? Never had I ever imagined...!"

Azula laughed, almost tipping out of her chair. Her hands covered her face to hide how red she was turning.

Iroh--brought out of his horror--smiled at his niece. 

Never had he ever imagined that he would think tea was 'just tea'. 

But in his mind, all that mattered was that his niece was smiling and laughing. He didn't think he'd ever pour juice into a tea cup (tea cups were for _tea_ , not juice!), but he could look past that. 

Maybe it would become a new habit--drinking juice out of a tea cup. 

At the end of the day, Azula was family. She was his niece. He cared for her, and wanted her to be well. He wanted her to healthy and fed.

Iroh loved his niece and wanted her to be happy.

_Even if she didn't like tea._

*********

An hour passed. Two hours. Three. Four. Five.

It was soon noon. Zuko hadn't come out of his room. Iroh knew the boy was awake; he had sent Azula in to check up on her brother.

But he was still in bed.

Scared.

Afraid.

_How dare Ozai--_

Iroh didn't want to push the boy into doing something uncomfortable. Perhaps there would be another trigger. 

Instead, he let his nephew stay in his room--a safe space. He watched as his niece went in and out of the room. More than once had he pressed his ear against the closed door and listened to their conversations (only Azula talked; he never heard Zuko).

By the time noon rolled around, Iroh realized it was lunch time. He called Azula over and asked if she wanted to help prepare food. They made a simple dish of stir fried vegetables, talking amongst themselves as they waited for the food to finish.

When the food was plated and set on the dining table, Zuko still hadn't come out of his room.

Iroh set aside Zuko's plate, watching his niece eat. She asked him about going out of the house one day--perhaps to a mall or a grocery store, or even a park. Iroh smiled at her and told her he'd love to take Zuko and her out to explore the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se.

"The Upper Ring?" she asked. "Why just the Upper Ring? Could we go to the Lower Ring?"

"I'm afraid that you might not like the Lower Ring..." Iroh explained. "But if you and Zuko would like, we can take the train to explore the Lower Ring, too."

"Is there anything to see there?"

"No, not much to see..." Iroh stroked his beard in thought. "...But the food is so heavenly. The street vendors know their way around quickly-made food!"

When the two finished up lunch, Iroh asked if Azula could take Zuko's plate to him. He watched as she scurried away, carefully holding the plate so that the food wouldn't spill. The man sat at the dining table, looking at the living room clock.

He wondered when Zuko would come out of his room.

Not when. _If._

If the boy would come out of his room.

It neared one in the afternoon when Azula came out with a barely half-eaten plate. There was a solemn look playing on her face.

"Zuzu's not hungry..." she whispered. 

Iroh worried for his nephew.

Compared to his and Azula's plate, he barely put any food on Zuko's plate. He thought that the boy would come out of his room for more food. 

_He thought wrong._

Nonetheless, he took the plate out of Azula's hands and thanked her. He smiled at her reassuringly, telling her that Zuko just needed a little more time. 

Maybe the boy truly wasn't hungry yet.

Maybe the food wasn't that good.

_Maybe this was a learned behavior from Ozai's parenting--_

"Wait here," Iroh told Azula, setting the plate down on the kitchen counter.

He walked out of the dining room and into the hallway, heading towards his room. The man walked inside and grabbed a cube off of his nightstand, walking back out and over to his niece. When he got back to the dining room, he handed her the cube and asked if she could give it to Zuko.

"What is it?" she asked him, looking at the cube in puzzlement. 

"This," Iroh explained, gently grabbing the cube from his niece's hands and twisting it, "is a Rubik's cube! You twist it to make it so that each side is all one color. I got it and haven't figured it out."

"Then why give it to Zuzu?"

"So he won't be bored in his room," Iroh said. "Maybe it will take his mind off of things for a bit. Don't you think so, my niece?"

Azula nodded, seeming pleased at the explanation. The uncle watched as she scurried to Zuko's room to hand him the Rubik's cube. She hadn't closed the door this time, so he could hear her excitedly explain to her brother what the cube was for.

Iroh had no doubt that his nephew was smart. He had a feeling that his nephew would persevere until the cube was solved. Iroh himself had given up three months ago. He remembered being gifted the little toy several months back. There had been a Christmas Party at the White Lotus Senior Center, and his Secret Santa decided that it would be a good waste of his time to take his frustrations out on a scrambled cube.

Iroh hated the Cube of Frustration. Albeit, he worked on solving the cube for months after work (sometimes during work, but he wouldn't admit that), but it just never worked out in his favor. The Cube of Frustration had made him feel emotions that he never knew existed in _such a bad way--_

But maybe Zuko would love it.

Maybe Zuko would solve it.

Or maybe Zuko would hate the Cube of Frustration, too.

Iroh didn't know how long the boy would stay in his room, but he hoped it wasn't long. Either way, at least his nephew had something for entertainment.

*********

Around two in the afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Iroh wiped his hands dry--having just washed the dishes--and went to open the front door. The person on the other side of the door shortly waved.

"Oh, Sergeant Jet!" Iroh smiled, recognizing the familiar face. "How may I help you?"

"Hey," Jet smiled back. "I'm here for the wellness check."

"Absolutely! Come right in!"

"Thank you."

Iroh let the sergeant pass through the door, shutting it when he was inside. He led him to the living room, welcoming him to sit down on the couch while he went to go prepare tea.

"I promised to make you the best jasmine tea the next time you visited," Iroh recalled. "Let me hold myself onto that promise!"

"It's really no bother," Jet protested. "You don't have to."

"I insist, young man!"

"It's fine, really--"

"One jasmine tea, coming right up!"

Jet sighed, letting the old man make him tea. He rolled his eyes inwardly, settling back on the couch. 

_Damn the old man,_ the sergeant internally scoffed. _At_ _least the couch was comfortable._

Jet looked around the living room, feeling a little at home. The house was cozy and felt lived in. It had a similar design to Fire Nation housing architecture. The placement of the interior designing added to that.

"So, sergeant," Iroh called out, "What exactly will happen during the wellness check? Will I be of any assistance?"

"Just a few questions for the kids," Jet answered, turning to the other man with a smile. "It's best if it was done privately."

"I understand. Would you like me to call my niece and nephew over?"

"Actually..." Jet paused, pretending to think. "...I think it would go a lot smoother if you just tell me where they are. And if there's a room here that will make well for private conversations."

Iroh thought about that request. He put the tea kettle down on the kitchen stove, preparing to heat it.

"I believe every room serves its purpose for privacy, sergeant," Iroh moralized, turning on a flame and waiting for the water to boil. "If you look for privacy, it will come to you."

"Sir, _please_ ," Jet breathed out, clearly a little annoyed. "As much as I'd like to listen to theories about privacy and life, I still have a job to do. If I could please get a room and know where the children are, that'd be great."

"Of course," Iroh agreed, a joyful light slightly dimming in his eyes. "I apologize for holding you up."

"It's fine."

"Down the hallway, turn left." The uncle pointed to the hallway. "I'm sure my niece and nephew are in one of the rooms there."

Jet turned away without a small 'thank you' to the old man. He strode into the hallway, following Iroh's directions until he came across two bedrooms. One door was open, but no one was inside. That left only one room, and Jet smirked to himself when he heard voices coming from inside.

*********

Azula sat on the edge of Zuko's bed, watching her brother fumble with the Rubik's cube. His eyebrows creased with frustration, and he bit his bottom lip in concentration. 

It was pretty funny to watch. Her brother was so worked up over the Square of Despair--as the two siblings named it.

She watched as he sighed to himself and placed the cube next to him, diving deeper into his blanket. The boy curled into a ball; only a small tuft of his loosened hair peaked out from under the blanket. She itched to put the messy, tangled hair into a ponytail. 

"I don't like the cube," Zuko mumbled from under the blanket. "It's stupid."

"Maybe if you weren't such a dumdum, you'd be able to solve it," Azula explained, tugging at the blanket so that she could see her brother's face.

As soon as she was able to uncover his face up to his chin, she laughed. The twelve-year-old had a scowl on his face; his hands were bunched around the heavy blanket she just pulled off of his head.

"I'm not a dumdum," Zuko whined.

"Yeah, you are," Azula countered. "A big dumdum."

"No, I'm not."

"You are!"

"You're a dumdum, too." Zuko stuck out his tongue, a small bit of childishness getting to him.

Azula, in all her maturity, did the same. And since she was very much mature, she even blew a raspberry at him.

"Ew, Azula," Zuko whined, wiping his face with the blanket. "You spit on me!"

"I didn't spit on you, dumdum," the girl scoffed. "I _cleansed_ you."

"With your _spit?_ "

"The spirits have blessed my saliva with the power to heal dumdum's like you."

"Heal me from what?"

"From being a dumdum, you dumdum."

Zuko groaned and pulled the blanket away from Azula's little hands, putting it back over his head. The girl smiled at herself--victorious. She allowed for a few moments of silence to pass before she reached over and grabbed the cube by her brother's side.

"You know," she gently encouraged, "You should probably figure out how to solve the cube thing."

"Why would I do that?" Zuko mumbled under the blanket.

"Because you'll stop being bored." The nine-year-old looked at the cube before adding, "And Uncle would be proud, don't you think?"

She saw her brother's form from under the blanket stifle. Slowly, the boy sat up and leaned against the pillows against the headboard, uncovering his head hesitantly. 

"Will he..." Zuko paused, gulping. "...Does he want me to solve it?"

Azula nodded. "But only if you want to."

"Will he... _be mad._.. if I don't?"

"I don't think so." She shuffled closer to her brother, grabbing his hand in hers. "He just doesn't want you to be bored. And solving the cube is good brain practice, since we're not in school."

Right, school. They hadn't been to school for a few days. It was almost September, which meant they missed a few days. 

They could catch up, right? Was it possible?

Azula knew she could catch up without a problem. She was good at school. She even begged Ty Lee and Mai to teach her some things they learned.

But she worried about Zuko.

Would he be okay?

She felt her brother squeeze her hand, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"You're thinking too much," he whispered. "Don't stress yourself..."

"I'm not." Azula squeezed his hand back.

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"...Dumdum."

Zuko laughed, a gentle noise that reminded her of their mother. She felt him keep squeezing her hand as he lolled to one side lazily.

"What ever happened to 'Zuzu'?" he asked her halfheartedly, a small smile still painted on his face. "Are you just going to call me a dumdum from now on?"

"Nope," Azula beamed, returning the smile. "You're Zuzu _and_ dumdum."

"Can I call you a dumdum, too?"

"Never."

"Then what do I call you?"

Azula pondered that question, racking her brain before settling on... "Call me smarty."

"That's unfair," Zuko pouted. "Why are you smarty, but I'm dumdum?"

"The spirits have blessed me with the power of nicknames--"

"No, they didn't!"

"You'd understand if you weren't a dumdum, Zuzu."

"I guess I'll just call you a liar then..."

Azula sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. "Spirits, forgive my brother--"

"They're not even listening to you."

"--for his ignorance! In due time, he will soon know the power that you have bestowed upon me!"

Zuko laughed, covering his mouth with his other hand. Azula prided herself in causing that laughter.

Though his laughter, Zuko managed to choke out, "I thought mama said _I_ was the theatre nerd in the family."

"You are," Azula admitted. "I'm just dramatic."

As her brother doubled over in laughter, Azula followed suit. She felt him squeeze her hand, not wanting it to slip away. For a moment, everything was perfect. Her brother was laughing with her, feeling at ease, and the only tears in his eyes were from laughing too hard. Azula never wanted the moment to end.

But then there was a knock at the door.

Azula, even in her hysteria, told whoever it was to come in. The two siblings closed the door a while ago--when Zuko admitted that having the door open made him feel a little exposed. She figured it was Iroh, and Zuko was in a good mood. Nothing could sully it, or so she thought.

The door opened and, almost immediately, the laughter stopped. Azula's eyes widened in shock, and then turned into anger when she realized who it was.

"Get out," she hissed, shuffling towards her brother and sitting in a way that blocked his view.

"But you invited me in," Jet laughed, a glint in his eyes.

"I did. And now I'm telling you to leave."

"What's that in your hand?" Jet changed the subject altogether, ignoring the girl. "Is that a Rubik's cube? I haven't seen those things for a while!"

Azula didn't respond. She glared as the man came closer into the room.

"That means I don't have to worry about keeping you entertained, huh?" Jet laughed, pointing to the cube. "You got yourself a little toy to play with while I talk to your brother."

"You're not talking to him," Azula sneered. "He doesn't want to talk to you."

"But he has to. Right, Zuko?"

She felt her brother tense up at the mention of his name, squeezing her hand just a bit tighter than comfortable, but she kept her attention on the sergeant. Instead of wincing at the slight pain, she squeezed back reassuringly. 

"If you don't get out, I'll scream," Azula threatened. "My uncle will throw you out!"

"Really? Is that so?" Jet laughed mockingly. "Because it seems to me that your uncle let me in."

"He wouldn't do that..."

"But he did. All I did was knock on the door, and now he's in the kitchen making some tea--"

"UNCLE IROH!" Azula screamed, feeling giddy when she saw the man wince. "UNCLE IROH! THERE'S SOMEONE IN ZUKO'S ROOM! THERE'S A MAN! UNCLE IROH!"

In the background, she heard heavy footsteps rapidly making their way down the hallway. Iroh quickly came running into Zuko's bedroom--eyes wide in worry and a ladle in his hand for defense. He looked around the room, landing on the sergeant and the children. 

"What's the matter?" Iroh asked, his eyes on Azula. "What's wrong? Who--"

"I apologize for scaring you like that, Azula," Jet said, mocking concern (Azula saw right through it and scoffed). "I'm only here to check up on you and your broth--"

"Liar! You're a liar!" Azula claimed, looking at her uncle with pleading eyes. "Uncle, he's lying! He wants to hurt Zuzu! He's going to hurt Zuzu!"

"What do you mean, my niece?" Iroh asked, concern washing over him. "What happened?"

"He's going to hurt Zuzu! Uncle, he's going to--"

"It seems that I scared her," Jet admitted, his expression solemn. "I guess she wasn't expecting to see me."

"Why is he here?!" Azula demanded. "Uncle, kick him out!"

"Now, now, Azula, I'm here for a wellness check."

"No, you're not!" The girl turned back to her uncle, pointing at the sergeant. "He's not here for a wellness check! He's lying, uncle! He wants to hurt Zuzu!"

Jet sighed, turning his attention towards the older man. "It appears your niece is making excuses to not leave her brother's side."

"My niece is not a liar, sergeant," Iroh glared, growing protective over the girl.

"I'm not saying she's a liar, sir. All I'm saying is that... wait..." Jet mimicked a shocked expression. "Oh... Were you not filled in by the social workers, sir?"

"Filled in?" Iroh was confused. "About what?"

"It's been speculated that your kids have separation anxiety. Mainly Azula, though the social workers believe that it extends towards Zuko as well."

"I don't have separation anxiety!" Azula screamed. "Whatever that is, I don't have it!"

"I'm not saying you have it, Azula," Jet said, gently smiling over at the girl. "I'm saying that the _social workers_ said you might have it."

"But you're not a social worker, are you?!" Azula sneered.

"No, but--"

"Then I don't want to hear what you have to say! Just leave! _Leave!_ "

"Azula," Iroh scolded the girl. "That is no way to talk to your elders!"

"He doesn't deserve respect, Uncle! He tried to hurt my brother!"

"What do you mean?" Iroh turned to Jet. "Young man, what does she mean?"

Jet shook his head. "I'm afraid it was a small misunderstanding, sir. I apologize for not rectifying it."

"Liar! You're a liar!" Azula screeched, pointing at the sergeant offendedly. "I saw him, uncle! He was touching Zuzu! He put his hand on Zuzu!"

Jet slightly ignored the nine-year-old--opting to continue explaining to the older man. "Sir, I admit, I did put my hand on the boy briefly, but that was only to fix his blanket."

"Fix his blanket?" Iroh stood on guard, but still a little confused.

"A few hours into the flight, Zuko fell asleep. Azula was watching a movie, and Zuko was shivering. All I did was fix the blanket around him so that he wouldn't get cold."

"That's not true! Uncle, he's lying!" Azula yelled again, waving her arms around. "He didn't fix the blanket! I did! I fixed Zuzu's blanket!"

"I don't doubt you, Azula," Jet smiled. "All I'm saying is that the blanket fell off your brother at some point and I fixed it."

"No, no!" The girl turned to her uncle; her eyes silently pleaded him to believe her. "Uncle, he put his hand on Zuzu! He put his hand on him, I swear!"

"I was just tucking the blanket into the seat so that it wouldn't fall again, sir. I didn't mean to cause such a stir."

"No, he's lying! Uncle, believe me! Please just--"

"Azula, I understand that you may be upset, but it's no reason to call me a liar."

"I'm calling you a liar because you _are_ a liar!"

"Azula, please. Why would I touch your brother? What would I gain from that?"

Azula froze, not knowing how to respond. It stopped her mid-scream. 

_What did Jet want?_

She was stumped. Her mind went blank, trying to figure out the motive. 

"I..." Her voice was weak and confused. "But you--"

The sergeant interrupted her. "Isn't it true that you were watching a movie when your brother fell asleep?"

No response.

"Azula," he pried, a ghostly smirk on his face, "Please answer the question."

"...Yes..." she quietly muttered. 

_Because it was true. He wasn't lying._

The smirk on the sergeant's face deepened, and it taunted her.

"And is it true that your brother had a blanket on him?" Jet asked. 

"...Yes..." she muttered again. 

"And could it be possible that the blanket could have fallen from your brother's shoulders? While you were busy watching the movie? While your brother was asleep?"

Azula thought about it, and considered every possibility. She tried to find some part of the question that had a loophole, but the way it was worded...

"...Yes..." she whispered.

Jet nodded. "And, if I fixed the part of the blanket--which I did do--that fell, how would I do it?"

Azula stayed silent. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to say it.

"Would I fix it with my foot?" The sergeant's tone was so jovial, as though he was having a normal conversation.

_As though he was trying to prove a child wrong._

"I would fix it with my hand, wouldn't I?" Jet laughed.

Azula tightened her grip on the Rubik's cube she was holding. She wanted to break it--or something, _anything._

Because the sergeant was wrong.

But he was also right?

It didn't make sense, and her head was hurting from the frustration and the screaming and the _sheer anger_ \--

Her hand started hurting as a corner of the cube poked at her palm. The dull pain helped calm her headache, but not her thoughts. Behind her, she could hear light sniffling, and it dawned on her that her brother started crying somewhere along the fighting. She even realized that, at some point, he let go of her hand and scooted away from her entirely. 

Suddenly, the dull pain in her hand seemed so small compared to the hole in her heart.

She knew exactly why her brother was crying.

And despite all the trouble she put him through, she was so sure that she wasn't able to protect him.

_Not today, at least._

*********

Iroh was confused. He didn't know where the conversation was going, nor did he know where it would end.

_Separation anxiety?_

Why wasn't he made aware of that?

Surely, it wasn't true...

But it made sense.

Azula never left her brother's side, and Zuko was always closely behind his sister. 

_It's a new place--a new home,_ Iroh's mind told him. _The kids are bound to stay close to each other in a new setting._

But they never left each other for more than thirty minutes.

 _Thirty minutes is a long time,_ he thought. _If they had separation anxiety, wouldn't they start panicking--being away for so long?_

But they slept in the same bed last night.

 _Azula and Zuko had different rooms,_ he reminded himself. _They were perfectly fine sleeping in different beds before the nightmare._

But they must have been tired last night. After a bit of sleep, they must have realized they left each other's side.

And Azula spent all day by Zuko's side today. Without counting the times she spoke to Iroh during breakfast and lunch, she didn't really leave the boy's room. 

Not to mention Zuko...

The boy really didn't speak to Iroh aside from sheer panic and trauma. He pretty much only calmed down when Azula was around.

"I know you're confused, sir," Jet voiced out.

Iroh turned to him, asking him what he meant.

"I know it's a lot to take in," the sergeant explained ( _and he looked so patient and understanding_ ), "But I am not a liar. If anything--if it helps--please just ask Zuko. He knows I won't hurt him. Azula is young, and though I'm not calling her a liar, her mind can't process what she sees in reality."

"My niece is intelligent and wise," Iroh countered. "I will never doubt her word."

"Then ask your nephew, sir. He'll tell you what's right and what's wrong."

Iroh looked at his niece and nephew, watching as one looked near tears and the other one silently cried. He didn't want to doubt his niece, but he didn't want to doubt an officer of the law either. There was a slight possibility that everyone was telling the truth, but his gut told him not to believe it.

"Could you please step outside?" Iroh asked, turning to Jet. "I want to ask my nephew in private."

"Of course, sir." Jet bowed and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Iroh waited for the door to completely shut before walking over to his niece and nephew. He gently took his niece's hand and removed the Rubik's cube, hissing to himself when he saw the indent from the corner ingrained into her palm. She wouldn't look at him. She just kept looking at her palm as Iroh massaged the indent away. 

"Azula," he gently whispered. "You shouldn't hurt yourself..."

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, her tone flat.

"Are you okay?"

Azula nodded slowly, then paused, then shook her head. She wasn't okay.

"Why?" he asked her. "What happened, my niece?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "But I'm not lying, uncle."

Iroh nodded, wanting to believe her. His niece wasn't a liar.

But the words 'separation anxiety' kept tugging at his brain.

He shook away those words--just for now--and turned to his nephew.

"What about you, Zuko?" he asked in the same gentle whisper. "Are you okay?"

The boy didn't respond.

"Zuko?" Iroh drew closer, placing a hand on his nephew's back and watching as he flinched. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that..."

Zuko shook his head.

Iroh removed his hand from the boy's back. "Are you okay, nephew?"

The twelve-year-old nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Another nod.

"Then why are you crying, nephew?"

Iroh watched as the boy hastily wiped at his eyes, sniffling loudly to clear his nose. It seemed as though he was leaning away from his uncle slightly.

"Zuko?" Iroh asked again. "Are you upset? Why are you crying--"

"L-Loud..." the boy whispered, barley audible. "T-Too loud..."

It slowly clicked in Iroh's head. "Was it the screaming? Was the screaming too loud?"

Zuko nodded, not once looking at his uncle. 

Iroh processed that small bit of information before asking, "Are you afraid of the sergeant, nephew?"

When the boy didn't answer, he continued, "Will he hurt you?"

Zuko shook his head. Iroh noticed how the boy started to wring his hands together.

"Don't lie..." Azula begged, her voice cracking. "Zuzu, don't lie. You know he'll hurt you."

Her brother shook his head. "He won't."

"But he--!"

"Just leave, Azula," Zuko interrupted. "Please."

"I'm not leaving!" The cracks in her voice grew stronger, becoming watery and wavy. "I'm not _fucking_ leaving!"

"Azula!" Iroh scolded, taken back by the curse. "There is no use for that type of language in this household!"

He watched as she jumped off the bed, standing up in front of him at her fullest height. He knew she was trying to intimidate him; for someone to small, it might have worked. Iroh sat on the bed, looking over at his niece in shock as she stomped and huffed, pointing at him and the door and at her brother--

"I'll say whatever the _fuck_ I want; I'm not leaving!" 

_And she was crying..._

There was small knock at the door. Jet popped his head in slightly, gently smiling at Iroh.

"Everything alright in here?" he asked, and he sounded _so genuinely concerned._

"Yes," Iroh lied, all because he couldn't find it in his heart to tell the truth in that moment.

"No, it's not _fucking_ alright!" Azula screeched, her voice bouncing off of the walls and into Iroh ears as she huffed and puffed around the room.

"That's not a good thing to say, my niece," he reprimanded her. 

"I don't give _two shits--_ "

"Azula!" Jet scolded, still peering through the door. "It's not a good idea to curse at your uncle like that--

"Fuck you! I hope you eat shit for the rest of your life--"

"Alright," Iroh got up. He turned to his nephew, leaning over and asking, "Zuko, nephew, will you be alright?"

Zuko nodded.

"Are you sure?" Iroh pried.

Another nod.

The uncle nodded back and quickly grabbed Azula, trying to drag her out of the room. He needed to get her out of the room. He needed to know why she was acting the way she was-- _why she was cursing_ (his mind was set on Ozai)--and why she was upset.

"Azula," Iroh grunted, feeling her pull back and towards her brother. "Let's go, Azula."

"NO!" She wrangled herself to the ground, refusing to move as she manifested dead weight.

"I apologize, sergeant," Iroh said. "This shouldn't be happening."

"I understand, sir," Jet laughed. "That's just how kids are."

"Mhm," the uncle grunted again, not really paying attention to the other man.

Iroh looked up from his niece--his eyes landing on his nephew. The old man's eyes widened in remorse, watching as the boy started to silently cry again. The twelve-year-old eyed his sister warily, digging his nails into his palm as he wrung his hands, and Iroh could only realize that Ursa did the same thing years back during absolute panic and nervousness and worry--

_Just like Ursa--_

His mind urged him to get his niece out of the room--to provide his nephew with _some_ sense of serenity. He quickly bent over and grabbed his niece, pulling her into his arms and carrying her out of the room. The sergeant made sure to open the door wide enough for Iroh to exit, as well as making sure to stray away from Azula's arms and legs. Iroh quickly made his way into the living room, ignoring the screaming and hitting he had to endure.

"LET ME GO!" Azula wailed in his ear, kicking and punching her uncle. "I SAID PUT ME DOWN!"

Iroh walked faster, only loosening his hold on Azula when he placed her on the couch. As soon as she was let go, she tried to run away. She got up from the couch, only to be laid back down and held still.

"LET ME GO!" She squirmed harshly, trying to kick her uncle when he only held her down tighter. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?!"

"Why, Azula?" Iroh's heart broke. "Why are you saying such things?"

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?! HUH?!"

He didn't want his mind to go there, but it did. And before he could stop himself from saying it... 

"You sound like Ozai..." he whispered, his voice wavering. "...Just like Ozai."

In truth, Iroh didn't expect his voice to be heard. It was barely a whisper, and Azula was screaming so loud and struggling so hard...

But she heard it.

She looked shocked, growing limp in her uncle's hold. She stopped screaming-- _stopped cursing_ \--and just laid there.

Iroh didn't know what to expect next.

He certainly didn't think that his niece would start sobbing.

"I-I'm sorry..." she hiccuped, closing her eyes. "I-I'm s-sorry..."

Iroh shook his head, letting go of the girl and sitting on the ground next to the couch. He leaned against it, hearing the sobs from his niece right in his ear. He couldn't hear anything else, and for a moment, he wondered if he made the right decision.

_What a mess..._

*********

It was around fifteen minutes after the whole ordeal that Azula stopped sobbing. She just laid on the couch, listening to her own breathing. She wanted to move, but she didn't know how to. All she could do was stare at the ceiling above, wondering why.

_Why had she done that?_

In the background, she could hear her uncle settle cups--his tea cups--into the little matching tea plates. She could hear the sound of tea pouring into three cups (she counted each noise; she knew it was three cups), wondering who the third cup was for. One for Zuko, one for her uncle, but the third cup? She remembered mentioning to her uncle that she didn't like tea. 

Who was the third cup for? Was it an honest mistake?

Then she remembered the sergeant's voice.

_"But he did. All I did was knock on the door, and now he's in the kitchen making some tea--"_

Azula closed her eyes, trying to stop the sting of incoming tears. Of course, the third cup was for Jet. Sergeant Jet.

She hated him--the Fire Nation policeman.

He confused her. He lied, but told the truth. He hid information, but admitted everything. He didn't care, but sounded so genuinely concerned the whole time.

Why?

What was his motive?

Azula opened her eyes again when she heard a small sound of a glass being placed on the living room table. She turned towards the noise, meeting her uncle's eyes. He was smiling at her, and that smile looked so warm and welcoming...

She looked away. She couldn't face him--not after all that she said to him.

"Azula," she heard him say. "My niece, please look at me. Please?"

She didn't look. She just wanted to cry. He was probably mad at her now, even if he said he would never be mad. 

"I'm not mad, Azula." He sounded so genuine that it _hurt_. "I just want to know why."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, still not looking at him. "I'm sorry for cursing at you."

"It's okay. I was never mad. I think I understand your reasoning."

Azula looked at him, a little shocked but she didn't show it. "You do?"

Iroh nodded. "You were upset, weren't you?"

Azula nodded back. Yes, she was upset.

"Then it makes sense," Iroh explained. "You were upset, so you let it out."

"But I cursed at you..." she whispered back, afraid of what would happen if she spoke too loud.

"Many people curse when they're upset, my niece." Then he laughed, almost as though he was told the funniest joke, "I just didn't expect someone so young to have a sailor's mouth! Especially from one so tiny!"

"I'm not tiny..." Azula huffed. "I'm almost as tall as Zuzu."

"So it seems." 

The two fell into a small comfortable silence. Azula felt her mood brighten just a little. She didn't feel like crying anymore, nor did she fear her uncle's reaction.

But still...

"Though your choice of words seem... _advanced_... for someone such as yourself," Iroh said, stoking his beard thoughtfully, "May I assume that this is just a one-time thing?"

"What do you mean?" Azula tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Cursing, my niece. Forgive me if I am setting too much of a boundary too fast, but I'd appreciate if you didn't use that language anymore."

"Oh, um..." The nine-year-old turned her attention back to the ceiling, feeling embarrassed. "...It's not too much of a boundary. I won't curse again."

"I'm glad to hear. May I ask another question?"

"Okay."

"Have you used such words before?"

Azula shook her head. She felt the same sting from before return to her eyes.

"Then why today?" Iroh asked. "What prompted it, my niece?"

"Just..." She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. "I don't know. Just happened."

"I believe there's more to it than that. You can tell me, Azula. I won't be mad."

"Well... um..." Azula started to fidget. "...Back at home, it happened. A lot, actually."

"What happened?"

"Papa... When things didn't go the way he wanted them to go..."

"He would curse?"

Azula nodded. "And it always worked. It was scary, but it worked. And I thought... maybe if I did that, you would make Mr. Jet leave."

"You said it was scary?"

Azula nodded again.

"Why use something you know is scary for your own benefit?"

"It wasn't really scary for me though," Azula admitted. "I just hid in my room when papa started cursing, but..."

She thought back to all the times her father would curse. His voice--so loud and booming--could be heard throughout the entire house. She was always able to hide under her bed when that happened, but...

But not Zuko. Not her mother.

They were always subjected to the curses. They always had bruises that came after the curses. They always cried because of the screaming and the cursing and--

"Did Zuzu cry...?" She faced her uncle. "Did I make Zuzu cry...?"

Iroh nodded solemnly. 

Azula turned away to face the ceiling. "I didn't mean to... I couldn't stop..."

"I know, my niece."

"I don't know why... It just happened..."

"It's okay."

"I should apologize to Zuzu."

"You should." His tone was so reassuring. She could practically hear him smile. "I think he would appreciate it."

"Would he forgive me?"

"I hope so, but then again, it's for you to figure out. Mending a relationship only makes a bond stronger."

Azula sighed, trying to understand that logic. It made sense, but it seemed easier said than done.

But she would apologize.

It was the least she could do.

There was another comfortable silence, but it didn't last that long before Iroh spoke up.

"Why don't you like the sergeant, my niece?"

"He's a liar, uncle." Azula paused before whispering, "But he wasn't lying."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know..." she shrugged. "He was lying, but he was telling the truth. It confused me. He wasn't lying, but he was telling the truth in a weird way."

When Azula looked back at her uncle, it seemed that he also looked confused. She watched as he nodded slowly, trying to process what she said.

"So," he asked after much thought, "In the room, was he lying?"

"He..." Azula thought back, shaking her head. "Not really..."

"Okay, okay. I see. That's good, right? He wasn't lying?"

"I don't know..." Azula sighed. "I hope so."

On the outside of their conversation, they heard a bedroom door opening and closing. Then there were footsteps walking down the hall. 

It was Jet.

"How did the wellness check go, sergeant?" Iroh asked, smiling as the man entered the living room.

"It went well," Jet nodded. 

"It took long. Was there a problem?"

"Well, normally, the wellness checks would go for about five to ten minutes," the sergeant explained before turning to face Azula and smiling at her. "But Zuko needed a bit of time to compose himself, so it took a bit longer to make sure he was calmer before I could check up on him."

Azula's blood boiled. "What did you do to my brother?"

The smile on the sergeant's face widened, and it seemed so genuinely caring.

But Azula saw through it.

The smile was so forced, and it was directed at her.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Jet said, still looking at the girl. "Questioned him a bit. Let him know what would happen during the checks. Helped him quiet down."

Azula tried to find a lie in the statement. Any lie. Just a tiny trace.

_But it was all true._

_That didn't make any sense._

"I'm grateful for your help, young man," Iroh thanked, standing up from the ground. "Here, let me get you some tea. I made jasmine tea, as promised!"

"Thank you!" Jet exclaimed, showing off a professional smile before turning back to Azula. "I'll check up on Azula before that, if it's not too much trouble."

"No, of course not! I'll stay in the kitchen until then. Or you could use one of the rooms away from here."

"It's alright. Here is fine, sir."

"Very well," Iroh said, walking to the kitchen. "Call me over when you're done!"

Azula watched as her uncle walked away from her, turning his back to the living room. She heard Jet walk over to her, and she turned her head just in time to see him sit on the table in front of her. She sat up and looked over at him, wrinkling her nose when the smell of his cologne pierced her senses. The smell of cedarwood was too much. He moved the glass of water Iroh placed for her onto the floor.

_Disrespectful._

"So, Azula!" Jet greeted, keeping that same fake smile. "How are you?"

"Good," she gritted, glaring back. Short and simple.

"Are you enjoying your new home?"

"Yes."

"Has your uncle been a good figure in your life so far?"

"Yes."

"Are you having any trouble adjusting?"

"No."

"What about favorite activities? Do you have any favorite activities?"

"Yes."

"Did you find new favorite things to do at this house so far? New things to do with your uncle?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what they are?"

"No."

That answer seemed to get on Jet's nerves. Actually, all of Azula's short and simple answers seemed to get on the man's nerves. If that didn't make her any less happy, she didn't know what else would.

"Alright, listen here, you little shit," Jet muttered, leaning closer to Azula. He spoke so low that only the girl would be able to hear, and even that was only possible if she strained her ears enough.

"What?" she muttered back, keeping her glare.

"You better drop that fucking attitude while I'm being so nice to you, or else--"

"Or else what?"

Jet didn't respond.

"And being nice? To me?" Azula continued, muffling a humorless laugh. "You're the one with the attitude."

"For a lady, you shouldn't be talking to a grown man like that," Jet sneered. "Where are your manners? Did your mother not teach you any?"

"You sound like my father."

"That sounds like a compliment," Jet laughed, nearly catching the attention of Iroh. He waved away the older man before lowering his voice again. "You know, if it means that much to you, I'll just be like your father. How's that?"

"You could," Azula shrugged, sitting back on the couch. "But if you really want to be like my father, you should avoid death at all costs. You know, because he died a few days ago."

"Fucking brat."

"Uncle said that cursing isn't allowed in the house anymore."

"You cursed just a few minutes ago. Should I recreate it to remind you?"

"I said 'anymore'. Maybe your ears are so full that you can't even hear half the time."

The sergeant snickered. "Don't worry, I can hear at least half the time. But what about your brother, hm?"

Azula shot up, ready to knock the officer out.

"Isn't he almost deaf in one ear?" The man smirked as he leaned in closer. "The side with the scar? And half-blind?" 

Azula wanted to wipe the smirk off of his face. "Don't talk about my brother."

"Why not?" Jet asked. "Don't you want to know what I did to him in that room? Don't you want to know what happened while you were throwing a temper tantrum?"

"What. Did. You. Do."

"Nothing really, but could you imagine if I actually hurt him?"

Azula stayed silent. Her eyes were wide in shock.

"I mean, seriously," Jet whispered, merely a few inches away from Azula, "Can you imagine what would have happened if I lost my cool? Especially after all the shit you said to me in that room? All that humiliation? What if I wanted to take it out on something? On someone?"

The girl felt a bad shiver run down her spine. Did this mean...?

"No, not today," Jet smiled. "But imagine. I could have, huh? But I didn't get that far today."

"Get that far?" Her voice was barely there. She was in too much shock. "What...?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he asked her. "Did you think I would just believe what Officer Ming told all my detectives that day?"

No...

_No..._

How?

"I know what happened that day, Azula," Jet smirked. "I know you killed your father. We have the knife. We have the evidence."

It was as if someone dumped ice cold water onto Azula, soaking her and leaving her to shiver. 

"But you're young, aren't you?" Jet continued. "If my detectives take you to court for a murder trial, no one would want to put you in jail. But your brother? He seems old enough, doesn't he?"

"Y-You can't..." Azula gulped. "You can't do that..."

"Oh, I can't?" The sergeant mockingly thought about what Azula said. "But... if I can't do that, then why am I ordering my detectives to pin the murder on another person?"

She went quiet. That meant...

"If I can get my officers to pin the murder on someone who wasn't even in the house," Jet asked slowly, "Then think about how easy it would be to pin the murder on someone already living with you and your father."

Azula shook her head.

_No..._

"Do you want me to change the investigation, Azula?" Jet asked, sweet but in the worst way. "Do you want your brother to go to jail? Do you want him to be taken away from you?"

_No..._

"Answer the question, Azula."

"N-No..." she whispered.

"Then don't get in the middle of me and your brother, okay? If you do..."

"I won't," she said, a little too quick to care. "I won't... Just don't..."

"I won't send him to jail if you'll be a good little girl and stay away, okay? Do we have a deal, Azula?"

Azula nodded, feeling tears well up.

"Say it out loud," Jet smirked.

"O-Okay," her voice cracked. "Yes..."

"Good girl." Jet reached over and ruffled Azula's hair, cooing at her response.

She watched as he got up, calling out to Iroh. She heard her uncle's startled voice, apologizing for not hearing the first time. 

How he had put in some earbuds to drown out the noise.

How he was busy listening to music to provide them with privacy.

How he put the tea in a thermos for Jet to take to work.

How Jet could keep the thermos for himself, and bring it every time he did a wellness check for more tea. 

_How Jet thanked him._

The sergeant went to go grab the thermos and walked to the front door. Iroh said he would be there to close the door, but Azula got up from the couch and told her uncle that she got it. She ran to Jet, just as he opened the door and was about to walk away.

"Wait!" she called out, grateful when he stopped.

"What?" He sounded annoyed. 

"What did you do?" she asked, almost hushed and panicked. "In the room with my brother just now. What did you do?"

It took him a long time to answer, but when he did, he didn't sound that annoyed anymore.

He sounded happy. Content. Carefree. Laid back.

"I fixed his blanket," he told her.

Azula watched as the sergeant walked away. A dread filled her as she kept staring at his retreating form. 

"Is he gone?" Iroh asked her, walking up to her from behind. "Where is he?"

"He's gone," she whispered, trying hard to mask the bottomless pit forming in her. 

"How was the wellness check, my niece?" Her uncle sounded so nice. "Did it go well?"

Azula silently closed the front door, making sure to lock it properly. She then turned to face her uncle, a small smile on her face.

"It went great," she recited. "I apologized to Mr. Jet for what happened."

"I'm glad it went great!" Iroh patted his niece's shoulder comfortingly, watching as she nodded with a wider smile.

"Yeah. Me too."

*********

Evening came. Then dinner. Then bedtime.

Azula was too scared to go back to Zuko's room. She had been pulling herself together the whole rest of the day to apologize to him, but the nagging feeling kept coming back.

What the sergeant told her filled her with fear.

_"If I can get my officers to pin the murder on someone who wasn't even in the house, then think about how easy it would be to pin the murder on someone already living with you and your father."_

She unconsciously started to fidget. She didn't want to believe that someone could have that much power over a single life, but...

But it made sense.

The detectives and Officer Ming already told Azula that the murderer was hiding somewhere in the outskirts of the Fire Nation. If they could pin Azula's crime on someone else, it would be easy to draw her brother into the investigation. 

_"Do you want your brother to go to jail? Do you want him to be taken away from you?"_

No, she didn't want that. She didn't want her brother to go to jail. She didn't want Zuko to be taken away from her.

_"I won't send him to jail if you'll be a good little girl and stay away, okay? Do we have a deal, Azula?"_

She wanted to cry. Sob away her worries and let an adult handle everything. She wanted to tell her uncle everything, but that would mean risking the chance of keeping her brother close to her.

"Niece," a gentle voice sounded behind her, "Are you alright?"

Azula turned to see her uncle standing behind her. She nodded, putting on a smile.

"Are you sure?" Iroh crouched down in front of the girl. "Why do you look so worried?"

"Zuzu..." she said, shrugging. "I don't know how to apologize for what happened."

"I'm sure you'll find a way, my niece." 

"I hope so."

"Do you want me to walk you to his room?" Iroh offered. "Would that help?"

Azula thought about it before nodding, shyly walking behind her uncle as he got up and walked into the hallway. Her heartbeat quickened the closer they got to Zuko's bedroom, and all she could think about was _how_?

_How would she apologize to him?_

"Here we are," Iroh said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Oh..." Azula looked at the closed bedroom door and sighed. "Thank you."

"Would you like me to stay behind just in case?"

"No, it's fine." She turned to look at her uncle and smiled. "I think I want to do this alone."

"Are you sure?"

Azula nodded.

"Alright," Iroh said, gently patting her head. "I'll be in my room if you or your brother need me."

She watched as her uncle walked back down the hallway and into his room. He didn't close the door, but she was sure that he wasn't waiting for her to do something. Slowly, she turned and knocked on her brother's bedroom door.

Nothing. No noise. Was he asleep?

Azula twisted the doorknob and let herself in quietly. The lights weren't on, but she could make out the silhouette of her brother under his blanket. 

The sergeant's words rang through her ears: _"I fixed his blanket."_

She shook her head, trying to clear it. That's when she heard a small sniffle.

"Zuzu?" she called out, trying to be soft with her words. "Can I come in?"

"Go away," the voice under the blanket sobbed.

Azula's heart wrenched. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

"Do you want me to turn the lights on?" She subconsciously reached for the light switch. "I can do that for you."

It took a while, but she heard a small 'yes' and she immediately turned the lights on. 

"Zuzu, can I stay here?" She took a few steps towards the bed. "For tonight? Please?"

A part of her expected him to say 'no'. After all the times she barred Zuko from coming into her room back at home, she expected him to do the same. But instead...

"N-Not yet..." he told her, his voice draining slightly. "N-Need to... H-Have to sh-shower."

"Okay," she said, walking over to his closet. "I'll grab your night clothes then."

She heard shuffling from the bed, and then small footsteps padding towards the door. She turned around just in time to see her brother walking out of the door, grabbing the towel on the floor. His hair was everywhere, and his clothes were ruffled.

Perhaps it was because he stayed in bed all day, right?

But why was his towel on the floor?

She remembered spending the better half of the morning helping Zuko unpack his suitcase, having unpacked her own last night. She remembered hanging his towel on one of the hooks by the closet. 

Maybe she was thinking too much.

The nine-year-old grabbed a pair of night clothes and some underwear, holding the briefs far away from herself with the tip of her thumb and index finger. She walked out of the room and into the hallway, waiting in front of the bathroom. The water ran for a while, probably more than it should have, and Azula started to worry.

Her brother never took longer than twenty minutes in the shower.

Maybe it was because she was impatient. Maybe that's why time seemed slower. 

But eventually, the shower stopped. Azula waited a few more minutes before the bathroom door opened slightly. There stood Zuko, peaking out through the opening. Azula wasted no time in shoving his clothes and underwear at him.

"What--?" Zuko didn't have any time to process what she had just done. "...Why were you holding my underwear like that?"

"It has boy germs," Azula explained (very maturely), wiping her index finger and thumb on the hem of her night shirt.

"I don't complain about _girl germs_ when I touch your underwear..."

"You never touch my underwear though."

Zuko quirked an eyebrow at her. "Didn't I do your laundry back at home?"

Realization dawned on Azula as she grew horrified. "Ew, ew, _ew_ , just... Just change! For spirit's sake, put some clothes on!"

Zuko laughed. _He laughed._

She told him that she would be in his room, and that he should hurry up. Even if it was at Azula's own expense, she was glad he wasn't as sad as before. Once she got to his room, she went to his bed and quickly sorted out the pillows and blanket.

She wrinkled her nose.

They smelled like cedarwood.

_Like Jet's cologne._

Azula pushed that thought out of her mind, busying herself with rearranging the bedspread. While she was doing so, she found the Rubik's cube tucked between two pillows.

_Still unsolved._

Behind her, she heard the bedroom door close. The nine-year-old turned around to find her brother going towards the hooks by the closet and hanging his towel there. His hair was still wet.

"Didn't you wash your hair yesterday?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he answered. "Why?"

"It's bad to wash your hair everyday..."

"My hair's fine."

"At least dry it before going to bed..." Azula huffed.

Zuko shrugged. "It'll dry when I sleep."

"Please?" Azula made sure to give her best puppy eyes. "At least, can I dry it?"

Zuko relented, but eventually grabbed his towel off the hook and walked over to Azula. He passed her the semi-wet towel, sitting on the bed with his back facing her. 

"Here," she said, shoving the Rubik's cube into his hands, "Solve this while I work."

"But I don't like the cube," Zuko complained.

"Too bad. Solve the cube."

"The cube is stupid."

Azula pretended to ignore that comment as she busied herself with towel-drying her brother's hair. She would have preferred a dry towel to work with, but she made the best with what she had. Her ears picked up the noise of her brother fidgeting with the Square of Despair, making small sounds of frustration every once in a while. 

But his hair soon started to dry. 

And once his hair was dry, Azula was faced with another problem.

She quickly slipped away from the bed and ran to hang the towel back on the hook, grabbing a hairbrush from the nearby table and making her way back to the bed.

"What are you doing?" Zuko asked, eyeing the hairbrush as though it offended him.

"You have tangles," Azula explained. "Just let me brush them out."

"You're doing too much."

"So? You need to take better care of your hair."

Without another retaliation, Azula started to carefully untangle her brother's hair. But as careful as she was...

"Ow!" Zuko whined. "Stop pulling my hair!"

"It's not my fault you have tangles!" Azula pulled at another tangle.

"Ow, Azula!"

"Sorry, okay?!"

"What are you-- OW! Are you trying to make me bald?!"

"Just focus on your cube, dumdum."

Neither sibling knew how long the process took, but the tangles were gone after a few more tugs. Azula took a hairband from her wrist and pulled her brother's hair into a low ponytail.

"There," she beamed, admiring her work. "All done!"

She fell back into the bed, dramatically breathing out as though she ran a marathon. In the corner of her eyes, she watched as her brother ran his hands through the base of his ponytail before laying back down on the bed next to her. His scar was on the other side, not facing Azula, and for a moment she wondered...

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked him. "The scar, I meant. Does it still hurt?"

Zuko shrugged. "Sometimes. But only if I put pressure on it or touch it too hard. It's getting better though."

"Oh..." Azula pause. "...I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't really touch the scar when brushing my hair--"

"No, I meant..." Another pause. "...I'm sorry for yelling. And cursing. And scaring you. I didn't mean to."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not." Azula turned to her side, facing her brother. "It's not fine. I need to apologize."

"You just did," Zuko chuckled. 

"Look, I..." Azula sighed. "I'm sorry. I was just really scared that Mr. Jet was going to hurt you, and I needed uncle to listen, but he _wouldn't listen._ So, you know, back at home... when papa... I just... It just happened. I know that's not really an excuse, but I didn't want to scare you. I know what happened back at home, and what I did was wrong and--"

"Azula," Zuko interrupted, turning his head towards her. "It's okay, really. I'm not mad."

"Then why did you cry? Uncle Iroh said you cried."

"I was scared," he admitted. "I was really scared because I thought I was going to get hurt."

"You thought I was going to hurt you?"

Zuko nodded.

"I'm sorry," Azula apologized, sighing in distress. "I won't curse again. Even Uncle Iroh told me not to."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I even scared myself, so I'm not gonna do it anymore."

They fell into a comfortable silence. Azula watched as Zuko fidgeted with the cube, biting his lip as he worked. She watched as he solved one side completely, but groaned when he messed it up to solve another side. It all felt so blissful, but the smell in the pillows and the blanket didn't leave. She couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Did Mr. Jet hurt you?" she asked.

She watched as her brother stopped solving the cube, placing it on his side. He didn't answer.

She tried again. "Zuzu? Did he hurt you?"

Zuko shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Zuzu..."

"I'm fine, Azula. Come here; help me with the cube."

The twelve-year-old picked up the cube again, centering it between him and his sister. Azula let the conversation slide, knowing that the change in topic was needed. She let her brother explain his progress, trying to pay attention to what he was saying.

But the smell didn't leave.

"We'll be okay, right?" She interrupted him in the middle of his explanation. "We'll be together, won't we?"

"Yeah," he said after some time. "Yeah, we will. We'll make it out together."

"What if we get separated?"

There was silence. Azula saw a hard look painted on her brother's face, and it almost looked painful.

"I won't let that happen," he told her.

"Me neither," she agreed.

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise."

When they looked at each other, intertwining their pinkies together, they shared the same look. A look of terror, of worry, of concern. 

But they were on the same page.

They didn't know what happened to each other, but they knew not to pry.

_Because if they pried, who knew what they would find._

The smell of cedarwood filled their senses. Neither of them slept that night. 

*********

The wellness checks happened every day. Jet came over, handing over the thermos that Iroh filled with tea. The sergeant would go into Zuko's bedroom, stay for about five to ten minutes, and then come out to question Azula. Each time he came out, Azula noticed how different the man would be.

How carefree he would be, as though he wouldn't be caught doing whatever he did.

How bored he would be, as though he had nothing else to do after exiting her brother's room.

How tired he would be, and Azula didn't even know why he was tired.

It was strange. She didn't want any of it to happen, but then again...

Five to ten minutes wasn't so bad, was it?

If Azula had to choose between never seeing her brother again and not being around him for a few minutes, she would choose the latter. It hurt her, and her gut twisted every time the man went into the room.

_But she didn't have a choice._

Jet made it very clear that she didn't have a choice, nor could she do anything about it.

During those five to ten minutes, she would busy herself with talking to her uncle.

No, not talking. _Distracting._

She had a feeling that if her uncle found out what happened in that room--something even she didn't even know herself--something bad would happen. She didn't know what the bad thing would be, so she asked him two days after the first wellness check.

"Uncle Iroh," she said, pulling on the back of his shirt to get his attention. "I have a question."

He stopped pouring tea into the thermos he gave Jet and looked at the girl. "What's on your mind, my niece?" 

"How long will the wellness checks continue?"

"I'm not sure, but I hope they're finished soon."

"What happens when they stop?"

"Then it means both you and your brother will officially be staying here under my custody."

"Oh..." She paused, watching as her uncle went back to pouring tea into the thermos. "But what happens if you stop them?"

"If I stop them?" Iroh finished pouring the tea and set the kettle down. "What do you mean?"

"What if you told Mr. Jet you didn't want him to do wellness checks anymore?"

"Well, let's see..." Iroh stopped to think. "...I suppose I don't have that right, do I? Mr. Jet is the only one who can say when the wellness checks can be done. But if I stop them, then I might not be able to get one-hundred-percent approved for being your guardian."

"But I thought you were already our guardian?"

"I am, yes. But if the wellness checks go wrong, or if the kind policeman sees something he doesn't like, then he could take you and Zuko back to the Fire Nation. Only when all the wellness checks are over, I'll have full guardianship over you two without the interference of any authority."

"Oh..." Azula let go of her uncle's shirt. "Okay. I see."

She watched as he screwed back the lid of the thermos and placed it on the kitchen counter. In the background, she heard her brother's bedroom door opening and closing. Footsteps followed, and in walked Jet. 

"Azula," the sergeant waved her over. "Your turn. Come on."

She followed him into her own bedroom. After the first day, she didn't want her uncle to hear any of what was going to be said.

But she always left the door of her bedroom open, just in case she needed to run.

Or just in case Zuko needed to come into her room.

Because every time she went into her room with the sergeant, he always told her to sit on her bed. And every time he questioned her, he would place his hand on her leg.

_Not just her leg. Above her knee. And it felt weird._

But she never complained. She knew not to.

Because that would mean pissing off the sergeant.

And that in turn would mean him hurting Zuko.

_And Azula didn't want that._

She thought back to the time in the airplane. How the sergeant was touching her brother's leg under his blanket, just like what he was doing to her. 

Was this how Zuko felt?

Did he feel this uncomfortable?

It made Azula want to squirm away. Sure, her mother touched her legs to stop her from fidgeting or to settle her down, but this felt different. Very different.

Azula always answered Jet's check-in questions thoroughly. After about five minutes, he would leave her room. She would hear the front door open and close, and she would always leave the room right after. She always told her uncle that everything went well, and she always smiled if he asked her if she was alright.

But she never told him about what happened in her room.

It felt too weird to tell.

Maybe it was nothing.

All he did was touch her leg, right?

But another two days later, when Jet was questioning Azula in her bedroom, his hand kept getting closer to her hip. Azula kept moving away, slowly but surely, but the hand didn't go away.

And during the last minute, when the sergeant was just about to get up and leave, he leaned in closer to Azula. The smell of cedarwood made her want to gag.

**CW: description of rape/sexual assault of a minor**

"You're still a fucking brat," he whispered to her, "But maybe you could convince me otherwise."

"How?" she asked.

"Just do what I tell you to..." He leaned into her ear, brushing some hair away as he whispered, "...And it'll be our little secret. How's that sound?"

_Uncomfortable._

_She was so uncomfortable._

_But would she do it?_

"No," she said. "Get off me."

"Don't you want to think about it?" His voice was so sickeningly sweet. "Not even just a little?"

Azula didn't respond, but she tried to squirm away. She closed her eyes tightly trying to shut the voice out. The hand on her leg gripped her still, and there was another hand on her neck--keeping her head from turning too much.

And then she felt something else on the side of her neck.

_Lips. Kissing her. Trailing down to the dip between her throat and her collarbone._

**CW: end of description of rape/sexual assault of a minor**

Azula mustered all the strength she could and shoved the other man off of her. It didn't work the first time, but she was able to wiggle her leg out just enough to start kicking the man away. As soon as she found an opening, the girl dashed out of her room and down the hallway. She ran until she went into the living room, where she found her uncle watching TV. 

"Azula? Azula!" Iroh noticed her, getting up from the couch and running towards her. 

She let herself be hugged by her uncle, trying not to cry. 

"Why are you shaking?" he asked her, rubbing her back to comfort her. "What happened? Are you okay? Azula--?"

"Azula!" Jet's voice entered the room. "There you are... I was worried."

"What's going on?" Iroh asked him.

"I just..." Jet sighed. "I asked her about her parents; it was just a simple question. I knew I shouldn't have..."

He was lying, but Azula didn't dare say anything. Instead, she hid her face in her uncle's stomach, not wanting to look at the sergeant. 

_She was too scared._

_It all felt weird and she was scared._

"Azula..." her uncle's gentle voice soothed. "Are you alright? It's okay. You're okay. I'm here."

"The wellness check is done for today," Jet concluded. "I better get going. I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, sir."

"It's alright, young man." Iroh turned back to his niece. "You're okay, Azula. I'm here. I've got you."

Azula didn't look back up until she heard the front door open and close--until she was sure the sergeant left.

She was scared-- _so scared._

She didn't know what happened, but it felt weird and she was scared.

But now Uncle Iroh was here. And he was holding her.

Now, she felt safe.

*********

**CW: rape/sexual assault of a minor**

Zuko didn't like the way his bed smelled. Cedarwood and sweat practically clung to his sheets, and he didn't think he could get used to the scent. He knew Azula also smelled it; she would breathe through her mouth when she slept in his bed.

_"You don't have to sleep here," he told her a few nights ago._

_"I want to," she said, stubbornly clinging to his side._

_"Yeah, but you don't have to."_

_"Who's going to stop me?"_

He even thought about offering to sleep in her bed instead. There wouldn't be a smell, and it was big enough for both of them.

But maybe Azula didn't want him in her room.

 _You'll make it dirty,_ the dark voice told him. _Azula doesn't want to dirty her room._

Since the day the dark voice told him that, Zuko never brought up the idea of sleeping in Azula's room. He never told her the idea either.

He didn't need to.

He just wished the smell would go away. No matter how much he aired out the mattress, blanket, and pillows, it was still there. Maybe it would have gone away if Jet didn't come to see him for a few days.

But the sergeant came every day.

He laid there, not bothering to sit up--knowing he would be pushed back into the mattress anyway. He was silent as it happened, not once screaming out in pain or disgust--

 _At least he's gentle with you,_ the dark voice told him. _You should be grateful. At least he's not like Uncle Zhao. Would you rather prefer him?_

Zuko was as silent as he could be. He looked at the ceiling, imagining a starry sky. He imagined he was laying in a patch of green grass, or a pillow of snow. He imagined he was with his mother or his sister--or both--looking at the starry sky above and spotting constellations. He didn't know any constellations himself, but his mother always pointed them out to him. Azula also knew the constellations; she was smart enough to pick them up.

He imagined everything and anything, trying not to focus on the hands on him.

Trying not to focus on the bruising grip.

Trying not to focus on the heavy hand on his mouth.

Trying not to focus on the choking grip at his throat.

Trying not to focus on the way his hair was pulled out of the loose ponytail and tugged harshly.

He didn't want his hair anymore. Maybe if he didn't have hair, the pain in his scalp would go away. Maybe he wouldn't have so many headaches.

When the sergeant was done, he tried not to cry as the man pulled out. He tried not to grimace at the warmish-cold feeling that was left behind. He tried not to struggle too much when the man dressed him back into his clothes. He tried not to flinch when the sergeant left his room and loudly closed the door behind him.

He tried not to cry as he limped to the bathroom.

He tried not to scream when the water didn't wash away the _feeling_. 

He tried not to look down when he felt something run down his legs--not wanting to see what it was, whether it was blood or _something else._

He tried not to scrub his skin too hard to get rid of the _touch._

He tried not to pull his hair out of his scalp in handfuls.

_But the feeling of tugging and pulling and scratching and touching was still there._

And the voices...

_"You look just like your mother with your hair down."_

_"Long hair suits you..."_

_"Grow it out more. You'll look like a girl."_

_"You do look like your mother with your hair down. You just don't look as dead as she was--lying in a pool of her own blood."_

...The voices didn't leave.

Zuko didn't want his hair anymore. 

*********

Every night, Zuko screamed bloody murder. He screamed himself hoarse from the nightmares, and if he was lucky, it would only happen once each night. 

But when the nightmares happened, all of the unwanted memories surged forward. Zuko woke up screaming; the nightmares hurt so much. They seemed so real. They couldn't possibly be fake. He woke up to a dark room, and that scared him even more.

And once he woke up, he would finding himself crawling into the farthest corner. Azula, more than once, had tried to hold him down when he initially shot up. He knew that she was trying to help, and her groggy state of mind from just having woken up wasn't the best at making decisions. He knew that she was just trying her best.

But the nightmares were so real.

And when he woke up, there were hands on him--holding him down as he shot up.

There were fingers clawing at him to stay in bed.

There was a heavy mass being pressed on top of him, trying to cover him.

He knew-- _he really did_ \--that Azula was always startled awake with every scream. He knew she was grabbing his shirt, or just any clothing or limb, to try to keep him in bed. He knew she was trying to hold him still as he was thrashing and screaming. He knew she was draping his blanket over him--that maybe its heavy weight would tire him out, or even just calm him.

But the nightmares were fresh, and Zuko was scared out of his mind.

_And there was the scent of cedarwood and sweat--_

Zuko would push her away, not finding enough room in his panicked mind to care if she fell off the bed or not. He would get out of bed and run to the farthest corner of the room, crawling as fast as he could when his legs wouldn't work. He would huddle into a tiny ball, shielding himself from _whoever was in the room with him--_

In the back of his mind, he knew it was just Azula. 

But what if, by any sudden chance, it wasn't her? What if it was Jet, or Zhao, or Ozai, or _Iroh--_

And he would scream-- _keep on screaming._ And wail. And beg.

He would put his head down and screw his eyes closed. He didn't want to see; he couldn't see. The room was too dark and it was scary--

_Dark room. Moonlight. Hands. Touching. Pain. Crying._

_Pain pain pain pain--_

When he was huddled in the corner, he found a short window of time where he was _alone._ Where no one was touching him. Where he was safe and sound, and no one could hurt him.

But then there would be hands, and it scared him because they were so _gentle._ He didn't want anyone to touch him. He didn't care if the hands were gentle; he just wanted them _off._ Those hands--no matter how gentle--were going to hurt him.

Yet they never hurt him.

They held him, and they reminded him of his mother. They were warm, but they were shaking.

And then there would be a song. A song about leaves on a vine, sung by a voice just as gentle as the hands.

_It hurt. It hurt how gentle everything was._

_Where was the pain? There was supposed to be pain. When would it come?_

It never came.

Somewhere along the way, Zuko's heart stopped trying to beat itself out of his chest. He fell limp in an embrace he didn't register during his panic, and he let the gentle arms carry him back to the bed. He let the gentle hands soothe his hair, which had fallen onto his face. He let another voice--smaller and higher-pitched than the one that sang the sound about leaves on a vine ( _Azula, it was Azula)_ \--fuse over him. 

He let the smell of cedarwood and sweat engulf him, bringing back the parts of the nightmares he wanted to forget. 

He let the gentle hands leave him--gentle hands that he learned to crave after the panic left his mind.

He let the heavy blanket press down on him, like a body on top of him.

He let the gentle voice wish him good night, and then walk away.

Somewhere in the night, when the gentle voice walked away, he would feel someone play with his fingers. The hands were so small--so warm--and sometimes they would run through his hair calmly. 

"I'm sorry," he would whisper, knowing it was Azula.

"It's okay," she would whisper back, her voice so reassuring and gentle. "I'm fine. Are you fine?"

And he would nod, like a liar.

Because if he told the truth, Azula would worry.

If he told the truth, she would stay up all night making sure he was fine.

If he told the truth, she wouldn't snuggle against his side and lightly snore until the sun rose.

If he told the truth...

He never told the truth.

He knew not to.

Instead, he pretended to sleep. Sometimes sleep came to him through his pretense, but if it didn't, he would listen to the sounds in the dark room.

He didn't want the darkness to be there. He wanted light.

At least that way, his mind wouldn't let him think that there was someone hiding in the dark. In a corner. In his closet. Under the bed. By the door, near the light switch.

Or maybe his mind wasn't thinking that. Maybe it was true.

Maybe Zhao was standing just by the foot of his bed, watching him sleep.

Maybe Jet was leaning against a corner, waiting for him to notice.

Maybe Ozai was under his bed, waiting with a belt in hand.

Maybe someone was sleeping by his side--

No, no. That was just Azula. It was just his sister. 

But maybe...

Zuko would always turn to face the body snuggling against his side. It was always just Azula.

A part of him felt relieved. It was only her, sleeping peacefully in a dark room that scared him.

But the other part of him panicked. 

Because the room was too dark and--

_Where were they hiding?_

*********

Iroh didn't expect the contents of his fridge to run out so quickly. Then again, there were more mouths to feed now. He wasn't living alone anymore, and after six years, he was making food for other people.

It kind of made him happy.

In the long run, the empty fridge wouldn't refill itself. So one Saturday morning, Iroh fixed up a quick breakfast of boiled eggs and apple juice--ginger tea for him--and told his niece that they would be going grocery shopping. He had never seen Azula eat as fast as she did after that announcement, nor had he seen her balance a plate of food so carefully as she ran into her brother's room.

Iroh cleared the breakfast table and made sure to wash the dishes. He was already dressed enough to do outside, so there was no point in changing.

That didn't stop Azula from tearing her closet apart, all because--

"--I'm going outside!" She cheered, concentrating on her clothes. "But I have nothing to wear!"

"Just wear anything, my niece," Iroh laughed. "It's just the grocery store."

"But I have to fit in!"

"Fit in?"

"Yeah! You said the girls of Ba Sing Se are pretty, and since I'm a girl in Ba Sing Se now, I have to be pretty!"

"You're already pretty, Azula," Iroh said, clearly amused. "The girls of Ba Sing Se will be struck by your good genes."

"Sure, but I can't go outside in my _pajamas!_ " Azula tossed another article of clothing onto the floor of her room. "I have to wear outside clothes!"

Iroh let her be. He walked out to the living room, finding his niece's tactics a bit amusing. He missed the energy of a child.

_Lu Ten would act the same way._

He sat on his couch, nursing his second cup of ginger tea. He reached for the earbuds in his pocket and put them on, flipping through his phone to put on his favorite track. A teenager visiting the Jasmine Dragon had shown him how to play music on an app-- _Spotify, was it?_ \--and since then, Iroh's life changed for the better.

Okay, that was an exaggeration.

But music was Iroh's forte, and if he could find a way to listen to Mozart's finest pieces instantly, he will be as dramatic as actors themselves.

As he listened to the music, he closed his eyes, letting Mozart's piece flow through the earbuds and into his mind. The composition put him at ease--two dancing lovers circling around each other, rivaling in a waltz.

He thought back to a time where he heard that same piece on a radio. Much over a decade ago, when his wife was still alive, Iroh would hear classical music playing in the dead of night and into the early reminiscent of the morning. She would pull him into the kitchen, laughing merrily as he swung her in his arms. His grace--back then and even now--was nothing compared to the grace he had as a general, but it made her laugh even harder when he tripped over his own feet.

_"Shouldn't we be asleep?" he asked her._

_"Why sleep when we can dance?" she shot back, making herself twirl around the dining table._

_With a smile painted wide on his face, he reached over and twirled her back into his arms. They laughed so loud that they were sure the neighbors heard them. They knew that they were risking the chance of getting complaints sent to them by their landlord once again--how they shouldn't dance at 2 a.m. when other neighbors had to wake up for work in just a few hours._

_But it wasn't their fault that the walls were thin._

_It wasn't their fault that they were happy._

_It wasn't their fault that they loved each other._

_It was destiny. They danced as though it was the only thing they knew, holding each other in their arms and swinging around._

Caught in his memories, he didn't realize that Azula had come into the living room. He felt one side of the couch sink a bit, and he turned his head to see his niece smiling at him widely. He smiled back, taking out one of his earbuds.

"What are you listening to?" she asked him.

"Ah, this?" Iroh removed the other earbud and gestured for his niece to come closer. He leaned over and carefully put the two earbuds into her ears, reaching for his phone to turn down the volume just in case the music was too loud.

"It's a piano," she commented. "And maybe a violin?"

"Indeed it is, my niece!" Iroh laughed merrily. "Such fine instruments. Such wonderful music."

"But there aren't any words..."

"You don't need words to understand music, Azula. Music comes from the soul. One must listen to music with their soul to understand what music means--what music says!"

He watched as the girl creased her eyebrows and shut her eyes. She concentrated on the music as though her life depended on it; it was honestly so adorable. Iroh had a proud smile on his face, feeling as though he passed on the wisdom of good music to the girl.

Azula opened her eyes, relaxing her expression, and sighed. "I don't get it..."

"You'll understand when you're older, my niece."

"So does that mean you're old?"

Iroh chose to blatantly ignore that comment. Instead, he asked, "Shall we go to the grocery store then?"

Azula nodded, getting up from off the couch. Just when her feet touched the carpeted floor, she froze and sat back down on the couch. Her face was riddled with worry and sadness. 

"What's wrong?" he asked her, patting her shoulder for comfort. 

"Zuzu's not there," she whispered. "...He promised he would come."

"I see..." Iroh looked toward the hallway before turning his attention back to his niece. "Why don't we wait on the couch for a few minutes then?"

That seemed to cheer her up a little. She sat back on the couch in a more relaxed manner, closing her eyes as she listened to the music playing in her ears. Iroh was surprised that his nephew would come along. The boy was always in his room--not once coming out, only ever talking to his sister in a hushed voice. Earlier that morning, when Iroh mentioned going out for grocery, he was sure Zuko wouldn't like the news one bit. When he brought up going outside even slightly in the past, the boy's face showed pain and confusion and _fear--_

_The boy was scared to go outside. Why?_

Iroh didn't want to push his nephew to do something uncomfortable. No, not after what happened on the first day. He was scared to hurt the boy.

But if his nephew wanted to tag along, he would be more than happy to buy him anything and everything.

Iroh sat on the couch with his niece, waiting in silence. The silence was comfortable; there was no need to fill in the space with small talk. They waited, and sure enough, Zuko slowly walked in after a few minutes. His head was down and he wrung his hands, but he was dressed properly and his hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail.

"Nephew!" Iroh called out with a smile, waving him over. "You're here!"

"Zuzu, come here!" Azula sat up from the couch, removing her earbuds and gesturing over for her brother to come closer. "Come listen to this! Uncle Iroh likes to listen to old people music!"

Zuko walked up slowly to Azula--his head still down--and let her shove one earbud into his good ear. Iroh watched the siblings react; his heart danced in joy at the sight of his nephew _finally out of his room!_ He stared at them with a wide unconscious smile, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry. He teared up just a bit, but he would never mention it. 

_Oh Agni, his nephew was standing in front of him! His nephew! Zuko! Right in front of his eyes! Standing!_

"Shall we go?" he asked, not caring if his voice cracked just a little. "Are you two ready?"

"Let's go!" Azula jumped off of the couch, grabbing her brother's hand and walking him to the front door. 

Iroh followed the two--a wide smile still adorning his face. He watched as the siblings rushed to put on their shoes, taking the time to notice what they were wearing.

They seemed expensive. Designer clothes, it seemed like. 

Iroh thought back to his childhood. He used to dress the same way; his father didn't want his family to look poor.

Albeit, his family _wasn't_ poor. His father just wanted everyone to know they were well-off. No matter what happened behind closed doors, the outside world only saw the best image of the family.

Iroh could only imagine that Ozai was the same way. 

_And now that he thought about it..._

_Zuko didn't have the best clothes._

The boy wore _rags._ Iroh had gotten a glimpse of the boy's shirt at night--when he was woken up by nightmares. He just thought it was for comfort; even Iroh wore old clothes as sleepwear. 

But no. This was Ozai's doing.

Iroh sighed. He should have known. He made a mental note to take the kids--mainly Zuko--shopping for new clothes. Especially before they started going to school. Perhaps they didn't want to wear such fancy clothing outdoors.

Or maybe they did. Iroh had enough money to buy them whatever they needed and wanted. He'd be damned if he didn't spoil these children.

"We're ready!" Azula saluted, grabbing her brother's hand.

Iroh laughed, saluting back. He went to go open the front door and grabbed the house keys and shopping bags, gesturing the two kids outside. Making sure to lock the front door, he then led the siblings down the block. 

"Where's the car, Uncle Iroh?" Azula mentioned in passing. "The one you rented?"

"Ah, yes, I returned it!" Iroh ruffled his niece's fixed hair. "But not to worry! The grocery store is just a few blocks down!"

He held out his hand, letting the girl hold it as they rounded the corner onto a busy street. The noise amplified itself; the neighborhood was peaceful and quiet compared to this intersection. In the corner of his eye, he saw his nephew shuffle behind his sister, looking at his feet. The boy's hand squeezed his sister's hand tighter. Azula seemed so used to it, not once batting an eye.

_Ah. Too loud. Was that why he didn't want to go outside?_

Iroh unconsciously moved his niece closer to him when he saw a few pedestrians coming toward him. Zuko followed suit, hiding behind his sister and his uncle. As soon as the pedestrians passed, the walking signal turned and the trio walked across the road to the other side. Iroh held the children close to him, turning his head occasionally to make sure they weren't having a hard time walking with him.

A few minutes later, they came across the grocery store and went inside. Iroh grabbed a shopping cart, letting go of Azula's hand in the process. They walked inside--the children following their uncle around as he picked out what they needed to stock up on. 

"Azula," he turned to face his niece, "What's your favorite food?"

"Favorite food?" She deliberated for a bit, and then replied in a very serious voice, "Cake."

Iroh almost laughed ( _she was adorable and so serious--_ ). "I meant something healthy. Like fruits or vegetables!"

"Um..." Azula looked around, her eyes landing on the fruit section. "I like strawberries. Does that count?"

"Of course it counts!"

Iroh went over and grabbed a box of strawberries, checking to see if they were ripe before putting them into his shopping cart.

"And you, nephew?" Iroh leaned down to ask. "What's your favorite food?"

The boy didn't respond. The uncle noticed how he held his sister's hand tighter, practically ducking behind her. He was suddenly so aware of the noise in the grocery store, and Iroh cursed at himself for not noticing sooner.

 _Baby steps,_ he reminded himself. _Baby steps..._

"Zuzu likes lychee!" Azula answered for her brother.

Iroh smiled gratefully at his niece, thanking her as he went and grabbed a few ripe lychees, bundling them in a grocery bag and putting them in the shopping cart. He led the children around the grocery store, stopping at various spots to bundle and pack food into the shopping cart. Iroh made sure to gesture to all the snacks lying around the store, telling the siblings that they were free to pick out anything that interested him.

They walked around, eventually reaching the ice cream section. Personally, Iroh didn't like ice cream that much. The coldness irritated his teeth, and the texture was too creamy in general.

But he practically pushed the two children into the ice cream section, telling them to look around. Kids liked ice cream, right? 

Of course they did. If they didn't, Azula wouldn't have been staring at the frozen mochi section for what seemed like eternity.

"Found something that interests you, my niece?" Iroh asked, indulging her a bit.

She pointed to a frozen assortment of vanilla and chocolate mochi. There was a pleading look on her face--one with puppy eyes and eagerness. Iroh smiled and nodded, watching as the nine-year-old practically jumped out of her skin to grab the box and carefully place it in the shopping cart. He then turned to find his nephew, seeing him look at the ice cream carton section. The uncle walked over carefully, trying not to scare the boy.

"Zuko," he gently spoke, "Would you like a carton?"

Zuko looked at his uncle briefly, and then back at the ice cream cartons. Iroh caught the boy's eye lingering on one of the mint chocolate ice cream cartons.

"Would you like that one, nephew?" Iroh asked. "The mint ice cream. Would you like me to grab that for you?"

He studied the boy; his longing expression stayed on the ice cream carton. Or maybe he was looking at another carton. He wanted the ice cream, didn't he? Would this be the day his nephew finally asked for something from him?

Iroh's heart sank when the boy shook his head, walking back to his sister. The old man looked at the ice cream cartons and sighed, thinking that maybe he pushed the boy too hard. Maybe he didn't take baby steps like he intended to. He really hoped his nephew would ask him for something-- _at least one thing._

With a heavy heart, Iroh called out to the children and led them out of the section, pushing the shopping cart to the check-out station. He unloaded the contents on the shopping cart, paying the cashier when prompted. Azula helped him put all the groceries in the shopping bags he brought, letting her carry the lightest bag after much insistence from her end. Zuko reached out to take a bag from Iroh, silently asking to help. The old man let him do so, subconsciously noting how the boy was carrying the bag with the packed mochi.

Azula's mochi, to be precise.

Would Zuko help himself to some? Did he like mochi? Would Azula complain that her brother ate her ice cream?

Iroh thought back to their small encounter at the ice cream section. He wondered if his nephew liked mint chocolate ice cream.

_...Just like his mother._

*********

A week since the children came home to Iroh, the suspected criminal was caught and tried for the murder of Ozai. It was all over the news; journalists were having a field day discussing the events of the crime. Reporters lined up outside the Fire Nation Capital Court House, trying to get a statement from the suspect and jurors. The initial trial went on for five days, with each day becoming more strenuous than the last.

Yon Rha pleaded not guilty. His defense attorney tried to bargain on that claim. The prosecutors tried to prove his guilt.

Eventually, the court settled on the last crucial piece: witnesses.

The judge dismissed the court until all the witnesses of the crime could hold the trial accountable. He claimed that only one more day would be given to the trial, and if nothing crucial came up, Yon Rha would be released as an innocent civilian. That day, the prosecutors doubled down on their claims, bringing in evidence from the Water Tribe Criminal Reserves.

Jet drove Iroh, Azula, and Zuko to the airport that same day. They reached the Fire Nation by nightfall, staying in police custody until the next day. Once the sun rose, Jet led the three family members to the court, requesting back up when the crowds of reporters became too heavy to deal with. Azula held onto her brother; the crowds scared her, and she had a feeling they scared Zuko as well. They were eventually escorted into the Court House, where they were seated next to another family dressed in blue.

Iroh seemed to know who they were. He greeted them warmly, which was only returned by the family even warmer. Zuko and Azula waited for their uncle to finish greeting the family--standing awkwardly behind him until they were asked to be seated.

Not a moment later, the judge walked into the room. Everyone seated had stood up. He took his seat in his high stand and hammered his gravel. Everyone sat back down.

"Court is in session," the judge stated. "Case Number 4387 of the Fire Nation jurisdiction and Case Number 1380 of the Water Tribe jurisdiction are being reviewed by the court today. Suspect Yon Rha has chosen to plead not guilty. The sixth day of the case may began now."

A prosecutor stood, finding her cue and facing the judge. 

"Your Honor, if I may rephrase what happened yesterday," she began. "Yon Rha claims that he did not murder Mr. Ozai Sozin, and claims that he does not know who Mrs. Kya Aput is. Today, we have five possible witnesses that can attest to his false claims."

"That's a lie!" A man stood up, on the opposite side of the courtroom, banging his fists on the table. "It's all a lie! I didn't murder anyone!"

"Mr. Rha, please sit down," the judge commanded, hammering his gravel. "You are not allowed to interrupt without your defense attorney's approval. Now, please, Prosecutor Aiko, if you may."

"Thank you, Your Honor," the prosecutor said. "I'd like to bring up my first witness: Mr. Hakoda Aput."

*********

**CW: mentions of character death, racism, and ethnic cleansing**

When Hakoda heard his name, he patted his son's shoulder comfortingly before getting up. In the corner of his eye, he saw his son wrap an arm about his daughter, and a part of him felt relieved that they had each other. He walked to the front of the court room, sitting down at the questioning stand. A grim expression stayed on his face as he was sworn in by a testament, stating that he would only tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 

"Now, Mr. Aput," the prosecutor started, "I understand that you are the husband of the late Mrs. Kya Aput."

The man nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And is it true that you were nearby the day your wife was brutally murdered?"

"That is correct."

"Can you explain what exactly happened roughly three years ago, on September 20?"

"It was my daughter's birthday." He took a small breath, trying to steady himself. "I took my son out into the backyard. We were setting up a small party for my daughter. In the middle of it all, I heard a scream--my daughter's scream. At first, I thought she fell or hurt herself. My wife was in the house, so I thought she would take care of it. But the more I thought of the scream, the more it sounded..."

"Sounded like what, Mr. Aput?"

"It sounded... scared. I knew my daughter was scared. I didn't know why. And then the screaming continued, so I told my son to stay where he was. I ran inside and I heard my daughter screaming somewhere in a room. I followed the sound to mine and my wife's bedroom and... a-and I saw... m-my wife with b-blood a-and..."

Hakoda's voice cracked as he put his head down, covering it with his hands. He promised himself he wouldn't cry; he promised himself he would stay strong. He had to be strong for his children. He had to be strong for his wife.

The jury started to murmur to themselves; the court became a bit louder. The judge hammered his gravel to demand silence before asking the prosecutor to continue.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. Aput," she sympathized. "But I do wonder: are you sure that Mr. Yon Rha murdered your wife?"

At the mention of the murderer's name, Hakoda looked up. He wiped his eyes harshly, trying his hardest not to scream as he nodded. 

The prosecutor pressed again. "Are you sure you saw Mr. Rha murder your wife?"

"Yes, I..." Hakoda cleared his throat. "...I saw him through the window. My wife and I's bedroom has a window that faces the front yard. I looked outside and saw him leave in a car."

"You're wrong!" The murderer-- _his wife's murderer_ \--stood up and screamed across the room. "You didn't see shit!"

It took every bit of strength in Hakoda to not lash out at the murderer. It took so much to keep himself from leaping across the room and pummeling the criminal in the face. He wanted to hurt that man. He wanted to kill him, but he couldn't.

_Kya wouldn't want that._

"Mr. Rha, you must stay seated," the judge reminded. "One more warning before you are charged with providing a disturbance to a court hearing."

"You're not going to believe me?!" Yon Rha laughed. "You're going to believe a Water Tribe savage over a well-respected citizen of the Fire Nation?! You're going to take an uncultured man's word over me?!"

_But maybe Kya would excuse a few smart words here and there..._

"I may be a _savage_ , as you so kindly put it," Hakoda retorted, forcing a smile. "But you're still a criminal being tried for murder. A well-respected citizen wouldn't be doing that, would they?"

"Murder?" Yon Rha shrugged. "I wouldn't call it murder. I would simply just call it a cleansing."

The jury gasped in shock. Hakoda acted before he could think, leaping over the questioning stand and lunging for the murderer. He barely grabbed the other man's shirt before he was tackled to the ground. He could hear shouting in the background, as well as children screaming and--

_Children screaming..._

_Katara. Sokka._

_No, no, wait. He didn't mean to scare them. He didn't mean--_

"Did you see that, Your Honor?" the defense attorney stood up, fixing his tie. "The witness attacked my client simply because of a crude comment. How are we so sure that Mr. Aput didn't murder his own wife?"

"Your Honor, the witness was provoked," the prosecutor argued. "Had the suspect not used such profane language in the court of law, the witness would not have lashed out so personally." She turned to the jury, posing them her questions. "Think about Mr. Aput's turmoil. He lost his wife, and has parented his children alone for three years. How would you feel if you were in such a situation? How would you feel if you walked into a court room, where justice is served no matter race or region, and you get insulted by the person you wronged you? Would it be justified to be called such a profane name?"

"Sustained," the judge ruled. "Defense Attorney Ruji, I have already warned your client about speaking out of turn. Another charge will be added to his name. Such language will not be tolerated in this court."

"Yes, Your Honor," the defense attorney agreed, pulling Yon Rha down to his chair.

"As for you, Mr. Aput..." The judge ordered the policemen who tackled him to the ground to let him go. Once Hakoda was standing, the judge continued, "I do realize that what Mr. Rha had said was wrong. I realize that it is difficult taking on the role you have for your family. Such insults will not be tolerated in this court, but please refrain from acting out. Your behavior will not be tolerated again."

Hakoda nodded solemnly. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Please sit back down. Prosecutor Aiko, call up your next witness."

"Yes, Your Honor." The prosecutor cleared her throat, waiting for Hakoda to sit back down before saying, "The next witness is Mr. Aput's son, Sokka Aput."

*********

**CW: mentions of character death and racism**

When Sokka heard his name being called, he was still getting over the shock of seeing his father being tackled down by the police. His father already told him about the racism in the Fire Nation, and that things like this were likely to happen, but he didn't want to believe it.

Then it happened. And he yelled. He held his sister back, trying to shield her away.

He wanted his dad. He wanted to help him.

But at least Uncle Dragon was there. The man got up to shield him and his sister away from the scene. He was able to calm them down. He told them not to cry.

His father came back eventually, taking him and Katara into his arms and holding them tightly. Sokka wanted to stay in his dad's arms forever. He didn't want to be scared again. He didn't want his heart to beat that fast in fear.

But his name was called. His father and Uncle Dragon told him to go up to the stand, reassuring him. They told him that it would be okay. They told him that there was nothing to worry about.

_Why were they lying?_

He just saw his father being pushed to the floor. He heard what that man called his father. He heard what the man said his mother's murder was.

What if it happened to him? What if the police pinned him to the ground? What if they called him a savage? What if the man said his death would be a cleansing?

"Sokka Aput," the judge demanded. "Please make your way to the stand."

"Go on, little man," his dad said, patting him on his back. "You got this."

"Don't worry, Sokka," Uncle Dragon whispered reassuringly. "If anything goes wrong, your father will come get you."

Sokka nodded hesitantly, making his way to the stand. He passed by the jury, who watched him as he walked. He almost tripped in front of them, and then again when he passed by the same policemen that tackled his father. His heart beat out of his chest.

_He was scared. So scared._

He eventually made it to the stand; his whole body shook as he looked into the audience. He saw his father and his sister, who smiled encouragingly at him. He saw Uncle Dragon--the kind man that helped his father three years ago--give him a small thumbs up. He saw two other kids (one looked to be his age) look at him in curiosity.

None of that did anything to calm his nerves. 

Especially when he was sworn in by the testament. What if he accidentally lied? What if he told the wrong type of truth? Was that even possible?

"Sokka Aput," the prosecutor said, coming closer to him. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Sokka shrugged. "Nervous..."

"Is there a reason that you're nervous?"

Sokka shook his head. He looked over at the policemen, gulping in their sight. 

"There's no reason to be nervous, Sokka," the prosecutor smiled. "We're all here to help you. I'm just going to ask you some questions. Is that alright?"

Sokka nodded.

"Your father said that you were with him the day of your mother's death, is that true?" she asked him.

He nodded again. "Yeah. My dad and I were setting up for Katara's birthday. We were blowing balloons."

"Balloons are lovely," she smiled gently. "Can you tell me what happened that day from your perspective? What did you see? What did you hear?"

He thought back, trying to recall what happened. Some parts of his memory were fuzzy, and the doctor from three years ago told him his brain was blocking out the bad things. But he still remembered...

"My dad and I were outside," he began. "I was blowing balloons and my dad was tying the strings to them so we could hang them up. And then we heard Katara screaming. She's always really loud, so I thought she fell down and was being dramatic. But she kept screaming, and I couldn't hear my mom comfort her."

The prosecutor nodded. "What happened next?"

"My dad told me told me to keep blowing the balloons outside, and that he would tie them when he got back. He went inside, and Katara was still screaming. I got worried and went inside the house. The front door was open, so I thought my dad went outside. But I didn't see my dad."

"Who did you see?"

"I saw him." Sokka pointed to the man. His father told him that the man hurt his mother. "He was leaving. He was holding a knife."

"Was there anything on the knife?"

"It was red..." Sokka paused. "...I think it was blood."

"You see, Your Honor?" The prosecutor faced the judge. "Sokka Aput said that he saw a knife covered in blood. The prosecuting team has gathered evidence since then, and one key piece we uncovered was a knife covered in Mrs. Kya Aput's blood." She paused, walking to a table and holding up a bag with a knife, covered in dried blood. "Forensic evidence cannot find solid traces that Yon Rha's fingerprints on this knife, but we also uncovered a glove with both Mrs. Kya Aput's blood and Mr. Yon Rha's DNA." She placed the knife down and held up a bag with a stiff glove. "All this evidence points to Mr. Yon Rha murdering Mrs. Kya Aput."

"Your Honor, if I may," the defense attorney said, standing up.

"Proceed," the judge allowed.

"So, Sokka Aput," the defense attorney said, walking over to the stand. "You said that there was blood on the knife?"

Sokka nodded. "I think so."

"How do you know what blood looks like?"

Sokka drew back in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You said you saw blood on the knife. How do you know it was blood?"

"It just..." The boy paused, trying to explain. "...It just looked like it."

"But how do you know what blood looks like?"

"I... I'm not sure...?"

"You're not sure?" The defense attorney stepped forward, getting in Sokka's personal space. "Or do you not want to admit the truth? The reason you know what blood looks like is because you stabbed your mother. You wiped the knife clean of evidence and gave it to my client, who unknowingly walked away with it."

"Your Honor," the prosecutor interrupted, "How does someone _unknowingly_ walk away with a bloody knife? This doesn't make any sense!"

"Your Honor, my client is an honorable man," the defense attorney explained. "His poor vision may have played into this factor. He did not know that the knife was covered in blood. And who would question a child when they hand you something? Most adults would take what a child is giving them and play along. Not to mention, the knife was reportedly the same as the ones found in the Aput household. This child, or his father, took a knife from their own cupboard and stabbed Mrs. Kya Aput!"

"N-No..." Sokka stuttered. His vision blurred. "N-No, I..."

The memories he suppressed for such a long time came back. 

_Running upstairs. Going into his mom's room. Seeing blood. Blood. His dad telling him to get out. His mom's open eyes, staring at him dully. Her chest didn't move. She wasn't breathing._

_She wasn't breathing._

_Blood._

_So much blood..._

He started to sob. He knew he was loud; it was the only thing he could hear--his own sobbing. Behind him, the jury started murmuring to themselves again. The father was yelling for him--yelling at the prosecutor to bring his son back to him. The defense attorney grinned at the prosecutor, standing straighter and looking at her. 

"Your Honor, this is a far stretch!" The prosecutor looked at the judge with a mixture of anger and annoyance. "Defense Attorney Ruji is baiting an innocent child! He is using personal trauma against the boy!"

"Now, now, Prosecutor Aiko," the defense attorney placated. "Don't let your emotions tie you down. Would you honestly defend a boy capable of murder?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Who knows that the Water Tribes teach their children? Here, in the great Fire Nation, we teach our children to behave like humans. But the Water Tribes? Do you honestly believe that they are modernized in legal structures and teachings? Do you honestly believe that barbarianism doesn't exist in their motherland? The poor woman was killed by her own family! We could only assume that the boy learned such violence tendencies from his father!"

"Objection, Your Honor! Defense Attorney Ruji is using blatant racism in his defense! In the court of law, such stereotypes must be overlooked and held in such a standard as the one that used them!"

"Sustained," the judge agreed, hammering his gravel. "Defense Attorney Ruji, please refrain from using such language in your defense. Acts of blatant racism will not be tolerated in the court of law."

"Your Honor, we can only assume," the defense attorney argued. "Now it's been proven! The boy's silence shows his true colors! He murdered his mother!"

"M-Mommy!" Sokka wailed, rubbing his tears away with the back of his hand. "I-I want m-my m-mom!"

"You see, Your Honor? After murdering his mother, the boy regrets his decision and wants to repent!"

"I-I didn't!" Sokka hiccuped. "I-I didn't do i-it!"

"He stabbed his mother, Your Honor!" The defense attorney went over to the evidence table, picking up the knife. "He wiped the knife clean of his finger prints and gave it to my client! Sokka Aput is trying to frame my client with murder!"

Sokka sobbed louder. It hurt. Everything hurt--mostly his head--and he clutched it tightly to stop the pounding. He wanted his mother. He wanted her to hold him. He wanted his father. He didn't like the courtroom.

A voice broke through all his thoughts, and it sounded a lot like--

"That's not true!"

_\--Katara._

"That's not true!" He turned to her direction, seeing how she was standing on the court bench and screaming, "None of that is true!"

"Really?" The defense attorney looked at her, and Sokka could see a smirk on his face. "How do you know? What's not true?"

"My brother didn't hurt my mom!"

"Yes, but how do you know?"

"Because I saw everything!"

*********

**CW: mentions of character death and racism**

Katara was proud of herself when she saw the defense attorney turn pale. In her opinion, he deserved every bit of panic.

How dare he try to accuse her brother? How dare he try to blame Sokka?

The noise in the courtroom stilled; only her brother's sobbing could be heard. Her dad warned her that this might happen in the Fire Nation. He explained to them the day before they got to the capital--how things were different for people that didn't look like they belonged.

_"We look different," Hakoda explained, sitting in front of his children. "In the Fire Nation, people will know that we don't belong. They might treat us a bit differently."_

_"How different?" Katara asked, her voice low and quiet._

_"Well..." the father sighed, thinking. "Do you remember what happened in the jewelry store? The one we went to when we wanted to buy a ring for Uncle Dragon's birthday?"_

_Sokka nodded. "We didn't buy the ring though. We had to leave."_

_"Do you remember why we left?" When the two children shook their head, Hakoda explained, "We left because the shopkeeper told us to leave. He thought we were there for no good reason."_

_"But we wanted to buy a ring!" Sokka exclaimed._

_"I know, little man. But there are times where people won't listen. They'll think we're doing something bad. It's up to us to deescalate the whole situation before it gets worse."_

_"But that's not fair!" Sokka huffed, sitting in his spot with an angry look on his face. "Why do we have to leave? Why can't other people just not be judgy?"_

_"This didn't happen back at home..." Katara muttered. "I want to go home."_

_"I know, sweetheart," Hakoda said apologetically. "But this is our home now. We live in Ba Sing Se now. This city is pretty diverse, so I promise it won't happen as badly. It'll happen sometimes, but a lot of different people live here. You won't be alone."_

_"Like the lady that asked if we were okay?" Sokka asked. "When we went outside. Is that why she was asking if we were okay?"_

_The man nodded. "Yeah, that lady was nice, right?"_

_His children nodded._

_"You'll meet a lot of nice people in Ba Sing Se. There's going to be a few bad apples here and there, but for the most part, there will be people ready to help you." Hakoda let that information sink in, waiting for his children to process what he told them. When it looked like they had, he continued, "Now, about the Fire Nation. It's going to be bad there."  
_

_"How bad?" Sokka asked._

_"Pretty bad, actually..." The man coughed awkwardly. "The Fire Nation doesn't do well with strangers. And since we don't look like we're from the Fire Nation, we might be treated very badly."_

_"But the police can help us, right? Like how the Dai Li helped us?"_

_"I'm afraid not, little man. The police in the Fire Nation might be a little... harsh? And since we're going to court, the lawyers and jury members might also be a little judgy."_

_"Will they hurt us?" Katara asked in a quiet voice. "They won't hurt us, will they?"_

_Hakoda turned to his daughter, a serious look painted on his face. "Katara, I know it's scary, but try to be brave, okay? Your Uncle Dragon will be there; go get him if he's nearby."_

_"But what if you're being hurt?"_

_"Then take your brother and walk away, alright? I'll handle it--whatever it is."_

_"Uncle Dragon is from the Fire Nation, isn't he?" Sokka asked. "If he's really nice, then the Fire Nation can't be all that bad, right?"_

_Hakoda turned to his son, resting a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. No words were exchanged after that, but the message was clear._

_Uncle Dragon left the Fire Nation for a reason._

"Your Honor." The prosecutor stood firmly. "I would like to request the audience of the third witness."

"Permission granted." The judge gestured for Sokka to sit back down.

Katara watched with weary eyes as a policeman led him away from the stand, clutching her brother's arm. The boy sobbed his way back to their father, instantly jumping into his waiting arms the moment the policeman let him go. Katara looked over at the policeman's badge, quickly reading his name.

_Sergeant Jet Freefighter. Badge ID 0134698._

"I would like to now call Mr. Hakoda Aput's daughter, Katara Aput, to the stand," the prosecutor announced. 

Katara stepped off of the bench, knowing it was her time to go up. She looked straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. She tried not to look at the murderer--tried not to be scared of him. She knew that if she looked at the man, she would start crying.

She promised herself she wouldn't be weak. Not anymore.

Not after what happened to her mother.

She got to the stand and sat down, looking over the audience as she was sworn in. She saw her brother, her father, and her pseudo uncle. The man had two children sitting next to him--one girl and one boy. Katara wondered who they were. 

"Now, Katara," the prosecutor began, "You mentioned that you saw everything. Can you recall everything that day?"

"Yeah, I..." Katara went speechless.

Recall everything?

What exactly did she have to say?

She didn't want to think about what she saw.

_"Katara, get out!" Her mother pushed her towards the door. "Go find your father, sweetie. Go!"_

_"Mommy..." She tried to cling onto her mother._

_She was scared. So scared._

_"Katara, go!" Her mother kept pushing her out. "Find dad."_

_"Last chance, woman," the stranger man threatened. "Tell me who Southern Waters belongs to, or else I'll kill your daughter."_

_"It belongs to me!" Her mother lied. "I lead the company. Please don't hurt my daughter."_

_Why was she lying? Why was her mother lying?_

_The man pulled out the knife from behind his back. Her mother pushed her against the wall, away from the man. Katara watched as the man lunged forward, covering her mother's mouth and raising the knife._

_Behind the hand, the girl heard her mother's muffled screaming--_

"Katara," the prosecutor said, bringing her back. "What did you see that day?"

"I was playing with mommy," Katara whispered. "We were playing hide-and-seek. I was counting while mommy hid, and then the doorknob started jiggling." She thought back harder; her memory became fuzzy. "I thought it was my Gran Gran, since she went for a walk earlier that day, so I opened the door. I thought she forgot her keys. But it wasn't Gran Gran; it was him." She pointed to the man--the murderer.

It was the first time she looked at him properly. Not since the first time she saw him, but the first time in court.

He looked so scared.

 _Good,_ she thought to herself. _He should be scared._

"I tried closing the door because it was a stranger," Katara explained, hate boiling in her. "But he pushed it open and let himself in. I got scared and started screaming. I ran upstairs to my mom's room; that's where I found her. She thought it was a joke, but I kept telling her there was a man in the house. And then he came inside a-and he..." Memories flashed before her eyes. "...H-He stabbed her."

The jury started to murmur again. It pissed Katara off; how dare they murmur?

"He killed her." Katara glared at the man. "He told me to shut up and he walked out."

"I didn't kill her!" Yon Rha screamed, sounding a little panicked. "I swear! That wasn't me!"

"Then who was it?!" Katara screamed back. "Are you saying I'm blind?! You said that you didn't know who my mom was, but I saw you!"

"Order in the court," the judge demanded, hammering his gravel. He looked so exhausted.

"Your Honor," the defense attorney contradicted, "Even if Ms. Aput saw my client, there is still no motive for the crime! There is no reason as to why my client would ever commit murder!"

"There is a reason," Katara countered, challenging the defense attorney. "He said he wanted to speak to the person that managed my dad's company! My mom lied and said she did, and then he stabbed her!"

"What do you mean she lied?" Yon Rha asked in utter disbelief. 

"My dad runs Southern Waters! You killed my mom over a lie!"

"But she said--"

"Mr. Rha, hush," the defense attorney harshly whispered. 

"Your Honor, Mr. Yon Rha just incriminated himself with that statement," the prosecutor claimed. She stood taller as she spoke, as though she had the upper hand. "He meant to murder Mr. Hakoda Aput in hopes of bringing down Southern Waters, but instead was mislead by Mrs. Kya Aput--a woman trying to protect her family. Mr. Yon Rha brutally murdered an innocent woman caught in the midst of a feud between the rich and the poor."

"Objection! Your Honor, my client did not mean a thing he said," the defense attorney tried to defend. "His blatant curiosity got the best of him!"

"Overruled," the judge declined, turning his attention back to the prosecutor. "Prosecutor Aiko, please continue."

"Your Honor, Mr. Yon Rha is a poor man," the prosecutor explained, her head high. "He went to the Southern Water Tribe district with the intention of bringing down the rich. In his anger, he targeted the family that founded a multi-million yuan company, Southern Waters. With intentions of bringing down the main founder, he failed miserably and targeted the man's wife."

"Your Honor, please," the defense attorney interrupted, "Do you honestly believe that such an uncultured civilization can be possible of creating a multi-million yuan company?"

"Your Honor, even if Mr. Yon Rha targeted a family living outside of the Fire Nation, how would that explain his recent murder?" The prosecutor turned to the jury, bringing out her next piece of evidence. "Three years later, his anger for the rich didn't die down. Mr. Yon Rha targeted yet another multi-million yuan company--one of the most infamous companies of the Fire Nation. He targeted the CEO of Firelord Industries, Mr. Ozai Sozin."

"Your Honor, Prosecutor Aiko has no proof! No evidence was uncovered for the crime! There was no murder weapon!"

"Your Honor, although there was no murder weapon, there were two potential witnesses to the crime. I'd like to bring my fourth witness to the stand."

The judge looked over at the defense attorney and then back at the prosecutor. He thought about what she told him before nodding, "Permission granted."

Katara took it as her cue to leave. She got out of the stand and speedily walked back to her father, diving into his open arms. She relaxed in them, no longer feeling scared or angry. She was safe now. In the corner of her eye, she could see Sokka look at her. He was nuzzled into their father--red tear-streaks painted down his face. She reached out and poked his cheek gently, smiling at him when he looked back.

_Everything was going to be okay._

"I'd like to call the daughter of Mr. Ozai Sozin to the stand," the prosecutor announced. "Ms. Azula Sozin."

Katara unwrapped herself from her father's arms just in time to see the girl next to Uncle Dragon stand up. She passed by Katara; the two girls made brief eye contact with each other. There was a worry in the other girl's eyes, as though she was scared.

Katara smiled at her reassuringly, trying to convey that everything would be alright. That they were on the same boat. That they would get through this together.

The girl made it to the stand, and as she was being sworn in, she looked at Katara.

_She smiled back._

Maybe, after the trial, they could be good friends.

*********

**CW: mention of character death**

When Azula heard her name being called, her breath got caught in her throat for a second. She stood, feeling the need to. Should she walk to the stand now? She didn't know what to do. 

She felt someone touch her shoulder. The girl turned around to face her uncle, noticing that it was his hand. 

"Are you alright, my niece?" He asked in a low, quiet whisper--one that seemed personal and caring. "Do you feel okay going to the stand?"

Azula nodded distantly, feeling the need to say that she was fine. She needed to do this.

She needed to do this for Zuko.

As she walked towards the stand, she passed by the family in blue. The girl that had gone up before her made eye contact with her, offering a small smile. Azula saw through the smile--saw through the meaning and the reassurance. She kept it on her mind as she walked up to the stand, settling down on the chair provided for her. As she was sworn in, she made eye contact with that girl again.

Katara, was that her name? That must have been her name.

She had the same small smile--so reassuring and caring. It reminded her of her mother (just a little, not a lot). 

Azula smiled back. The girl seemed nice.

She protected her brother--was that her brother? The Sokka boy; were they related? They looked alike, so they must have been brother and sister.

Azula thought back to how Katara drew her voice for her brother. The girl was so brave. Could she ever be brave like that? Could she ever look after Zuko like that?

Katara must be a great sister.

Was Azula the same?

"Azula," the prosecutor signaled her attention back, away from Katara's smile. "Is it true that you were in the house during the day of your father's death?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah. I was there."

"What were you doing?"

"I was sleeping upstairs. It was early in the morning--maybe around seven or eight? I woke up 'cause I heard screaming, and when I went downstairs, there was a lot of blood." 

"Where was the blood?"

"It was in the kitchen." Azula thought back to what Ming told her so many days ago--about what to say. "My papa was on the floor. And my brother had a burn mark on his face. They were both unconscious."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No..." She thought back harder. She needed to lie; she needed to do better. "The police came and I opened the door for them. I didn't know what else to do."

"Your Honor, Mr. Yon Rha murdered an innocent man in the comfort of his own home. He hurt an innocent boy on the premise that he might have seen what happened. He left the scene unharmed, but traumatically harmed a young girl by exposing her to the dead body of her father."

The defense attorney interjected. "Your Honor, my client does not know who Mr. Ozai Sozin is, nor did he come near that house."

"Your Honor, when Mr. Yon Rha was questioned for his alibi on the day of August 9 near 7 a.m. and 8 a.m., he could not provide a solid answer."

"I told you that I don't remember what I did during then!" Yon Rha vouched for himself, clearly agitated. 

"Your Honor, if the defense may..." The defense attorney looked back at the suspected murderer, glaring at him to shut up. He turned his attention back to the judge. "I'd like to question Ms. Azula Sozin myself."

The judge nodded. "Proceed."

The defense attorney walked up to Azula, running his hand through his hair. He seemed so frazzled, but his mind seemed to be running. 

"So," he searched Azula's neutrally-placed expression. "Ms. Azula Sozin, you said that you didn't see anyone in the house, other than your father and brother. Is that correct?"

Azula nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Then does that mean you didn't see Mr. Yon Rha?" The defense attorney half-way turned to the jury, expecting them to hear his question as he asked louder, "Does that mean you didn't see that man?"

The girl thought back, trying to think of a good response. Should she lie again?

But that would mean contradicting herself.

She shook her head. "I didn't..."

The defense attorney nodded, seemingly please. "Then, by that reasoning, it means that my client didn't kill your father."

"I know he did." Azula mustered all her courage. She had to prove the man was guilty. "I know what I saw. My papa was stabbed. There was a knife last time, wasn't there? He used a knife for the other person he killed."

"Yes, but how are you so sure? There was no weapon found."

"Someone killed my father," Azula countered. "And the only thing you care about is protecting the murderer."

"You aren't telling the court what you saw, Ms. Sozin."

"I already told you. I saw papa bleeding on the ground, and my brother wasn't moving either."

"Your Honor, the fourth witness does not show reliable evidence that my client is the murderer." The defense attorney turned away from the girl, facing the judge with as much confidence as he could muster. "She did not see my client, nor can she effectively prove what happened. She should be dismissed from the case."

Dismissed from the case?

Those words echoed in Azula's head. They clouded her thoughts. It didn't seem like a bad thing. If she was dismissed, then she wouldn't have to testify. She wouldn't have to lie. 

But without lying, she couldn't protect Zuko. 

People might find out what actually happened. Without her testimony, the truth might start spreading. Everyone will know what she did. And once they find out what she did, Zuko might...

_They'll send Zuzu away, just like how Jet said they would._

No. 

_No._

She had to protect him. She _needed_ to protect him. She had to make sure her brother was safe.

Azula saw the judge raise his gravel. Before she could think, she opened her mouth and screamed. 

"I know what I saw!" The gravel stopped midway, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. "I know that man did it! He killed my papa! It was him!"

The defense attorney glared at her. "But without proper evidence--"

"I swear; I know it's him!" She pointed to the puzzled man--the murderer--and kept screaming. "He did it! My gut is telling me he did it!"

"Order in the court," the judge demanded, hammering his gravel. "Ms. Azula Sozin's statement will be kept. She is a part of this trial as a victim to the crime, so her words will be acknowledged. That being said, since she did not see Mr. Yon Rha--or any one, for that matter--during the murder, her words will only be used as a deciding factor if the jury decides to rule the defense's client guilty."

Both the prosecutor and defense attorney looked at each other before turning back to the judge. "Yes, Your Honor." 

"Prosecutor Aiko," the judge sighed, "Please bring in your fifth witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

The prosecutor looked at Azula, shaking her head in disappointment. The girl wasn't much help in court, but at least she was able to contribute to the sentencing. Azula felt some form of relief run through her.

They believed her.

_The court believed her._

She got up from the stand, starting to walk over. The nine-year-old barely made it three steps out of the stand before she saw a man towering over her. She looked up; her face paled.

"I'll escort you back," Jet said, smiling at her.

Azula felt her heart drop when the man touched her back and pushed her lightly. Her feet carried her quickly back to the court benches, where she found it in herself to run back to her uncle the moment he came into view. She passed by the girl, not bothering to look back at her. 

Jet was touching her.

_He touched her._

The girl dove into her uncle's side, feeling his arms wrap around her.

"I'm here, Azula," he whispered comfortingly. "No need to be afraid. The testimony is over, my niece."

That wasn't why she was afraid.

But she would never tell her uncle why.

_Never._

She stayed in his arms, feeling relieved.

She didn't have to lie anymore. 

She didn't have to yell.

She was safe. And so was Zuko.

Azula turned her head to look at her brother, finding a shaky smile placed on his face. She gave a shaky smile back, clearly terrified out of her mind. Had he seen what happened with Jet? Was he worried for her? Did she do a good job?

Was she as good of a sister as Katara was?

The prosecutor interrupted her train of thoughts. "The last key witness to the case is Mr. Ozai Sozin's son, Mr. Zuko Sozin."

Azula's heart dropped again. 

And she could see that the same happened for her brother.

*********

**CW: mention of character death**

Zuko didn't like the courtroom. There were too many people; there was too much noise. He sat by Azula, grasping her hand tightly every time the noise doubled over or when the judge would hammer his gravel. 

Everything was so loud.

When Azula was called up, a part of Zuko wanted to go with her. He wanted to make sure she would be safe up there--away from the eyes of the judge and the jury. Another part of him wanted to pull her back down on the bench, preventing her from going. 

But she left. She went to the stand, and the noise picked up. Azula started shouting at some point--hysterical and almost seeming as though she would cry. Zuko sunk into himself when the judge demanded silence, feeling smaller under the booming voice that commanded the court. 

When she came back, he found himself relaxing for a second. He saw the sergeant bring his sister back to the bench, and Zuko tried _so hard_ to not look at the man. He kept his eyes on Azula, watching as she ran back into his uncle's arms. Her eyes darted back and forth subtly, as though she was scared.

_Why was she scared? Was it scary being in the stand?_

She looked back at him, and he offered her a smile. It was shaky--he knew it was shaky--but it was still a smile.

 _You did good,_ it told her, or at least Zuko hoped. 

She smiled back, and just for a moment, everything was fine. The court wasn't all that scary. The noise wasn't too overbearing. Maybe the trial would be over soon.

But then he heard the prosecutor, in such an authoritative voice, tell the entire court, "The last key witness to the case is Mr. Ozai Sozin's son, Mr. Zuko Sozin."

Zuko's heart dropped. He knew he was supposed to go up. In the back of his mind, he also knew that he didn't _have to_ go up. It wasn't mandatory if he said no, but it wasn't all that excusable either. Should he stay seated?

 _Do you want your sister to be sent away?_ The dark voice asked him--a sinister question, nonetheless. _Do you want the sergeant to put your sister in jail?_

But what if it wasn't true? What if Azula never murdered Ozai?

Azula would never do that.

_Never._

But Jet had the power to make it true. Just like how he incriminated that man, he could incriminate Azula the same way.

Zuko decided, in that moment, to stand up and walk to the stand. He was numb as he passed by his sister, his uncle, the man, the boy, and the girl in that order. He didn't dare look at them. 

But he looked at Jet. When he passed by the policemen lined up near the stand, he made eye contact with the sergeant just enough for that numbness to vanish. A part of him was filled with fear, while another (smaller) part of him was filled with anger. 

Either way, those emotions were bad. 

He sat down in the stand, growing numb again when his eye contact faded from the man. He barely registered himself being sworn in; he knew he was, but he didn't seem all that present as it happened. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to look at anyone.

He didn't want to lie. 

_What other choice do you have?_ The dark voice scoffed at him, as though he was childish for not wanting to lie. _What can you even do, besides lie? Do you want Azula to be hurt? Do you want her to be sent away?_

No. No, he didn't. 

He wanted to protect her.

He needed to protect his sister. 

"Zuko, how are you?" The prosecutor was smiling at him, and the smile seemed so kind but--

\--But he couldn't speak. He didn't want to. He shouldn't.

"Zuko?" she tried again. "Would you like to tell the court how you feel?"

No answer.

The defense attorney stood up. "Your Honor, the fifth witness is unreliable. The boy won't even testify!"

"Your Honor, the boy is clearly so traumatized that he can't even speak!" The prosecutor turned to the jury. "How can one look away from such a crime? How would one feel if their own child refused to speak after witnessing something so traumatic?"

"Traumatized from _what_ exactly, Prosecutor Aiko?"

"The sheer trauma of seeing his father murdered in front of his eyes! Not to mention what the man did to his eye!" She turned back to the jury, speaking to them--knowing that most of them were parents. "Mr. Yon Rha gave _burns_ to a _child!_ How does a parent feel about their child being severely burned by a stranger? How would a parent feel, knowing that their child would have to live with the reminder of trauma for the rest of their life?"

"You accuse my client of burning a child!" The defense attorney turned to the judge. "Your Honor, the defense has found Mr. Zuko Sozin's medical reports of child abuse! Who's to say that the boy's own father didn't do such a thing?"

"What parent would burn their own child, Defense Attorney Ruji? Especially someone so well-known and high-class as Mr. Ozai Sozin!" She kept speaking to the jury. "What's wrong with a little bit of discipline? Doctors will exaggerate every injury on a child, claiming child abuse. What parent hasn't disciplined a disobedient child before? Would you say that the late Mr. Ozai Sozin is a bad parent for teaching his children from right and wrong?"

Those words rang through Zuko's head. 

_A little bit of discipline._

_Disciplined a disobedient child._

_Teaching his children from right and wrong._

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't true. It wasn't true _at all._

 _But it is,_ the dark voice reminded him. _What else could have papa done? You needed it; you were bad. You were wrong. Always._

The jury seemed to agree. Their murmurs sounded so resigned--so positive. Indeed: what's wrong with a little bit of discipline?

"Either way," the defense attorney countered. "How would you get your last witness to testify? What can you possibly do that will make him talk?"

"He wouldn't have to," the prosecutor challenged, glaring at the other man before turning to the judge. "Your Honor, would it be possible to get a testimony through non-verbal communication?"

"Permission granted," the judge nodded.

The prosecutor looked back at Zuko, and the boy looked into her eyes. He tried to tell her that he didn't want to speak. 

He didn't want to be in the stand.

He wanted to go _home._

She walked up to him, gently explaining, "You can just nod or shake your head, alright? And point, when prompted. Sound good?"

Zuko thought about that offer. Maybe it meant he didn't have to lie, right? And he wouldn't have to speak.

He nodded.

She nodded back before speaking again, much louder than before, "Who gave you that burn?"

Zuko froze.

 _Papa did,_ he wanted to say. _Papa burned me._

But Azula...

His gut wrenched, knowing that he would have to lie. He didn't want to. He looked into the audience, meeting Azula's face-- _scared face_. 

No, he had to lie.

_He had to._

He looked around the courtroom, meeting the gaze of the man on the opposite side of him. The court labeled him a murderer. He was, essentially, bad. 

_He killed someone before. The boy's mother. What was the boy's name again?_

Zuko raised a finger, pointing at the man. He could hear gasps in the background; some inner curses rang throughout the courtroom and into his ear. 

"Why?" the prosecutor pressed. "Did he do it for no reason?"

Zuko didn't have an answer. Why would the man do it?

The prosecutor hummed. "So, no. Did he do it because you saw what happened?"

That seemed like a good reason, didn't it?

Zuko nodded.

"What happened?" The prosecutor sounded happy with his answer. "Did you see who killed your father?"

The boy stared at the man, seeing disbelief sprawled on his face. The man knew he was lying, but he didn't voice it.

Zuko nodded again.

"Who did it, Zuko?" When he didn't respond quick enough, the prosecutor pressed on. "Who kill your father?"

He needed to make a decision: to lie, or to tell the truth.

He didn't want to lie--not once. Lying was wrong. His mother told him that liars were bad people.

 _But you need to protect Azula,_ the dark voice reasoning, sounding oddly concerned. _Do you want her to suffer due to your mistakes?_

Zuko didn't want to lie. 

He knew he had to.

The decision was so hard to make. His mind raced as he settled on what to do.

He felt a sting behind his eyes. It came forward, as well as the lump in his throat that he didn't realize formed. He knew that he was going to cry, but he couldn't help it.

He didn't want to lie.

He raised his hand, shakily pointing to the man--the murderer.

The courtroom erupted in a mixture of gasps and horrified curses. He heard the noise getting louder and louder. The prosecutor and defense attorney were arguing back and forth, but Zuko couldn't interpret their words. They sounded so distant, and all he could do was look into the eyes of the man he framed for his father's murder.

He didn't know who did it.

He hoped it wasn't Azula.

But he knew it wasn't that man.

He looked into the eyes of the man and shook his head. He felt a tear roll down his face, escaping from his good eye. The man looked back at him--angry and beyond disbelief. Zuko wanted to apologize to him. He wanted to get onto his knees and beg for forgiveness.

He didn't want to lie.

He silently cried as he looked into the man's eyes, feeling suppressed sobs building up in his throat. His mother would be disappointed in him. If she were alive, she would have that distant disappointed look on her face--the type of look that everyone feared. Zuko felt himself shrivel inside, but couldn't find it in him to stop looking into the man's eyes.

He was so sorry. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell the man--

_I'm sorry for lying._

*********

Yon Rha was given capital punishment. Iroh shuddered, completely forgetting that the Fire Nation still kept the death sentence in their legal structures. Somehow, the man was brought to the justice he deserved. 

But poor Kya.

Iroh thought back to the sentencing. How the jury undermined her death--placing the sentence of 'voluntary manslaughter' rather than 'first degree murder'. He knew why--Iroh knew why. He listened with a broken heart as Hakoda explained the reasoning to his children--why their mother's murder only received a couple of years. He watched silently as the two children's faces fell.

_"The jury finds Mr. Yon Rha guilty," a representative of the jurors stated. "One account of voluntary manslaughter for the death of Mrs. Kya Aput. One account of first degree murder for the death of Mr. Ozai Sozin."_

_"The jury has spoken," the judge concluded. He faced the audience, announcing his verdict. "In the ruling of Case Number 4387 of the Fire Nation jurisdiction and Case Number 1380 of the Water Tribe jurisdiction, the court pronounces Mr. Yon Rha guilty of multiple charges. He will be charged with voluntary manslaughter for the death of Mrs. Kya Aput--sentenced to ten years in prison. One charge of attempted first degree murder and one charge of inflicted assault of a minor for the harm done to Mr. Zuko Sozin--sentenced to five years in prison. Five charges for emotional and physical distress dependent to threats of violent for the emotional well-beings of Mr. Hakoda Aput, Mr. Sokka Aput, Ms. Katara Aput, Mr. Zuko Sozin, and Mr. Azula Sozin--sentenced to six months in prison for each individual charge. One charge for disturbing the peace of a court--sentenced to one month in prison. One charge of first degree murder for the death of Mr. Ozai Sozin--sentenced to death row. Mr. Yon Rha, if there are any last words before you depart, you may speak now."_

_Yon Rha stood up, shaking on his legs. His voice wobbled as he spoke._

_"I'm sorry," he croaked out. "I... I regret what I did. I'll admit now: I did kill the Water Tribe woman. I didn't intend to, but I did. I lied before, during the trial, but I plead guilty for killing her. To the Aput family, I'm sorry you lost your wife and mother. But I never touched the Sozin family. I didn't do that. I never burned the boy. I never killed that man. I don't know why that boy lied, but I... I didn't... I wasn't ordered to--"_

_"Mr. Yon Rha," the judge interrupted, "You have spoken enough. Pleading guilty and not guilty will not alter your sentence unless you request a retrial. Until then, the court finds you guilty. You will now serve your time at Boiling Rock Prison, where you will live as an inmate for seventeen years and seven months. Once your time is served, you will be sent to death row and wait for your last sentencing." The judge turned back to the audience, picking up his gravel. "The ruling is now finalized for Case Numbers 4387 and 1380 respectively. The court is now dismissed."_

_With the last hammering of his gravel, the trial was declared over._

Iroh knew the Fire Nation well. He knew that the jury decided that, _somehow,_ Kya deserved to die. She wasn't from the Fire Nation, so she didn't matter.

Racism. There was racism in the Fire Nation, and the whole reason Iroh left--

He couldn't think about that now.

The trial was over.

In some ways, there was a relief. At least Ozai had gotten a fair trial, as bad as it sounded. Iroh wanted to believe that Kya's soul was at peace now. She wasn't done much justice, but at least her murderer was sentenced.

They were on their way back to Ba Sing Se--the two families. They traveled together on the plane, sitting behind one another until they reached the Ba Sing Se airport. Both families boarded the same train cart, sitting down in the same cabin. iroh, Azula, and Zuko sat on one side of the cabin; Hakoda, Katara, and Sokka sat on the other side. The two men talked amongst themselves, checking in with one another. Somewhere during the ride, Katara and Azula started to whisper to one another. 

"Are you Katara?" Azula asked. "Is that your name?"

Katara nodded shly. "And you're Azula?"

Azula nodded back.

"Your name is pretty," the Water Tribe girl mentioned, smiling a bit.

The Fire Nation girl smiled back. "Thanks! Yours is pretty, too. Does it mean anything?"

The two girls became subtle friends. They talked to each other, starting with awkward small talk and later gravitating to favorite foods. Apparently, Katara had never tried mochi, and Azula had never had Akutaq. They aggressively promised each other to feed it to one another if they ever got the chance, and somehow, both of their stubborn natures competed to who would eat whose favorite food first.

Meanwhile, next to the two girls, the two boys looked away from each other. Silence ensued between them; the laughter and talking only increasing between the two men and the boys' sisters. The silence weighed heavy between them--growing awkward and suffocating.

It was Sokka that decided to start a conversation. He was too talkative in nature to just _sit in silence_ when a new friendship could be made.

"Sooo," he began, awkwardly smiling at the other boy. "Your name is Zuko?"

The boy--Zuko--nodded.

"Cool." Sokka nodded back. "My name is Sokka, but I think you already that. You know, from the court. Yeah..."

Zuko made a mental note of the boy's name. Sokka. It sounded nice, but foreign. Maybe it was because it was a Water Tribe name. The Fire Nation didn't have any Sokka's. Mostly just Lee's.

"I like wolves. Wolves are cool." Sokka didn't get a response from Zuko, and it made him feel even more awkward about talking. "What's your favorite animal?"

Zuko seemed surprised when he asked that question. He didn't respond for a long time, and the Water Tribe boy took it as a sign that the Fire Nation boy didn't want to speak to him. Maybe the other boy didn't like him.

_People usually didn't like him anyway--_

"D-Ducks..." Zuko whispered, shocking both himself and Sokka. "...A-And turtles."

Sokka nodded slowly. "Turtles are cool."

There was more silence between the two, and Sokka wracked his brain for more to talk about. Maybe the other boy did want to be his friend. But how would he continue the conversation?

"You can find a lot of turtles in Ba Sing Se. And ducks," Sokka explained. "But not wolves. There aren't any wolves in Ba Sing Se. I miss them."

"W-Where...?" Zuko croaked out, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "W-Where are you f-from?"

"I'm from the Water Tribe. Down in the Southern Pole." The Water Tribe boy smiled widely, clearly proud of his heritage. He looked between Zuko and Iroh, trying to draw a connection. "You're from the Fire Nation? Like Uncle Dragon?"

Zuko looked at the other boy with confusion. Uncle Dragon? Who was Uncle Dragon?

Sokka seemed to have taken the hint. He pointed to Iroh, a small smile forming on his face. "Uncle Iroh. I call him Uncle Dragon. And my sister, too. He said he's the Dragon of the West, so I guess he's my Uncle Dragon."

The Fire Nation boy seemed to understand. He nodded to show that he got what the other boy was telling him.

"So, you're from the Fire Nation?" Sokka pried.

Zuko nodded.

"That's cool." After a small pause, the Water Tribe boy added, "I like your hair."

Zuko's eyes widened in shock. He subconsciously touched his hair, threading his locks in his fingers. Did the boy really like his hair? Why would he say that?

"I want long hair, too. But I get lazy to wash it, so I just leave the top uncut." Sokka patted his own head with pride before pointing to Zuko's hair. "But I like your ponytail! It looks cool. Really manly. Like a skateboarder."

Zuko didn't know what a skateboarder was, but it sounded cool. A part of him welled up in pride. Someone--the boy, _Sokka_ \--thought he was cool! 

"I have a wolf's tail when I pull my hair back, see?" Sokka turned a bit, showing off the back of his head. "It looks like the end of a wolf's tail!"

The Fire Nation boy hummed to himself, nodding. It kind of did look like a wolf's tail. Sokka must really like wolves. It looked cool, though. Maybe Zuko should wear a wolf's tail. Would he look as cool as Sokka?

The Water Tribe boy laughed, turning back around to face the other boy. "You don't talk much, do you?" 

Zuko blanched at the observation. He paled, sputtered as he tried to explain himself. Had the other boy hated him now?

"It's okay! People usually tell me I'm all over the place. I talk a lot anyway." Sokka waved his hands in worry, trying to calm the other boy down. "You're really nice for not pushing me away."

"Y-You're not..." Zuko was confused. Who would push Sokka away? "Y-You're really f-friendly..."

"You don't have to make me feel better, buddy. I know I can be over-bearing--"

"N-No!" The Fire Nation boy covered his mouth in shock, feeling some form of panic that he nearly yelled. "I-I mean... Y-You're nice. A-And easy t-to talk to... I-I'm sorry f-for... F-for not talking..."

"Oh, it's okay!" Sokka laughed, dismissing his worry. "It kinda makes you seem extra cool, you know? You seem really mysterious! Extra manly!"

"R-Really...?" Was he really that cool? He didn't feel cool.

Sokka nodded again before the train came to a stop. Zuko watched as the Aput family bid his uncle goodbye (Sokka waved to him, which surprised him a little). Iroh got up as the other family got off board, bringing the two siblings with him as they went through another exit. Once outside, Iroh stopped in front of a busy street, turning to the children. 

"Would you like me to stop a taxi?" he asked. "I know the trial and rides back home were exhausting. Forgive me for not renting a car this time."

"It's alright," Azula shrugged, looking at Zuko before turning back to her uncle. "Can we walk instead, uncle? You mentioned you liked to look at things when you walked."

Iroh smiled at his niece, asking Zuko if he wanted the same. When the boy nodded, Iroh led them towards a crosswalk, helping them walk across the busy street. The man felt his heart swell at the sheer fact that his niece remembered what he said the first day he met them. As they walked back home, Iroh pointed to all the things he noticed, taking note of the ooh's and aah's coming from the children. 

On their way back home, Zuko leaned into Azula and whispered into her ear.

"What's a skateboarder?" he asked.

Azula shrugged. "Dunno. Why?"

Zuko shook his head dismissively. He wanted to know what a skateboarder was. Sokka made it sound cool.

When the trio entered their home, Azula lightly tugged on the back of Iroh's tailored suit (the family wore red-tailored clothing to the court). He looked back, smiling at his niece.

She looked at Zuko--who looked away--before turning back to her uncle. "What's a skateboarder?"

Iroh laughed merrily. "What prompted this question, my niece?"

"Just curious."

"Ah, well. Skateboarders are people who ride boards with wheels! I, myself, was a skateboarder back in my youthful day!"

When the two children looked back at him in confusion, Iroh told them to go into the living room. He walked to his own room as the children sat on the couch, grabbing his computer from his desk and bringing it out into the living room. The man sat in between the children, careful not to crowd them, as he went onto YouTube and searched for skateboarding tricks. He clicked on the first video he found, settling back as he let the two siblings watch the clips.

Azula, in the simplest terms, was amazed. She gaped at the tricks she saw, asking her uncle if he _really did this in his youth._ Iroh admitted that he did, but his old age and maturity got in the way of his youthfulness. 

Zuko, on the other hand, stared at the computer screen in disbelief. He couldn't believe Sokka thought he was as cool as the people doing the tricks. Did he really look like that? It wasn't possible. More than once, he saw someone with a ponytail just like his--doing tricks in the arena and--

_"It looks cool. Really manly. Like a skateboarder."_

The twelve-year-old smiled to himself, subconsciously weaving his hands through his ponytail. 

Sokka thought he was cool.

Maybe Zuko _was_ cool.

_Like a skateboarder._

*********

Jet hadn't come for a wellness check since the day he offered a bargain to Azula. He only showed up to take the family to court, and stayed behind to fill out paperwork. Four days after the trial, he was back on a plane headed to Ba Sing Se, sitting next to another man that shared his mindset. They traveled in anticipated silence together, both on the plane ride and the train. They rode a taxi together, buzzing with excitement as they went towards their destination.

Today was the day.

Today was the day they would share what they earned.

They reached the house, paying the taxi driver and getting out of the car. They waited for the driver to leave before they proceeded to the front door. The other man hid himself--an extra precaution--as Jet rang the doorbell.

Iroh answered not even a moment later.

"Sergeant!" The old man greeted. "Another wellness check?"

"Actually, the wellness checks are done," Jet informed. "I already filled out the necessary paperwork. Zuko and Azula are now in your complete guardianship."

"That's wonderful! But why have you come here? Shouldn't I be phoned instead?"

"There's someone who wants to meet the children," Jet smiled widely--falsely but excitedly. "I'm here to conduct a chaperoned visit. This person is a family friend, and he says that he misses the children. Would it be alright if we came in?"

"Of course! Azula and Zuko are right in the living room. Please, come in! I'll make you some tea."

Jet watched as the old man walked away, trusting him with the open door. He looked to his side, eyeing the other man with a heavy smirk.

Maybe this time, they could share Azula as well. 

*********

Zuko was leaned against Azula, resting his head on her shoulder. They watched the cartoons play on the TV, getting lost in the animation. In the middle of an episode of Paw Patrol, they heard the doorbell ring. A part of Zuko wondered who it was; they didn't really get a lot of visitors.

Was it Sokka?

He lived in Ba Sing Se, didn't he?

A part of Zuko hoped that it was the Water Tribe boy. The latter boy was easy to talk to. He didn't feel choked up when trying to talk to him. 

He could hear his uncle laugh by the door, as well as the words, "Please, come in! I'll make you some tea!"

Did Sokka like tea? Zuko hoped the other boy liked jasmine tea; that was his personal favorite.

Along his way to the kitchen, Iroh told him and Azula that a family friend was here, as well as Jet. Zuko's heart dropped when he heard the sergeant was here. But family friend?

He looked over at Azula, seeing how she was also confused. They looked at the door, turning their attention away from the TV. 

As quickly as their curiosity formed, fear entered their minds. Jet entered the house--long strides to the couch with a smirk plastered on his face. Behind him walked another man, and Zuko almost wanted to scream when he saw who it was.

"Hello, Zuko," Jet cooed, reaching up to the boy's face and cradling it in one hand. "Did you miss me?"

No.

_No, he didn't._

He felt Azula fidget next to him, trying her best to keep still. 

"I brought a friend along," the sergeant said, his smirk deepening. "Maybe we can all _play_ together. How does that sound, hm?"

Zuko's eyes darted between Jet and the _other man._ He thought he left that man back in the Fire Nation. What was he doing here? What was he doing in Ba Sing Se--

"Answer the question," the other man ordered, walking forward and reaching over to Zuko's hair. He pulled at the boy's ponytail harshly, earning a whine. "Good toys do as they're told."

Zuko couldn't find his voice. Where was his voice?

The words were at the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to say them. But he also wanted to scream. He reached out to grab Azula's hand, squeezing it. He tried to push her hand away after that, telling her to go-- _to run_. 

"Why don't we all play?" Jet offered, eyeing Azula. "Maybe your sister can join this time."

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no--_

Panic increased. Zuko tried so hard to silently push Azula off the couch--away from the men. Between the fear within him and the pain in his scalp, he didn't know how well he was communicating with his sister. She needed to leave.

Why didn't she leave yet?

He needed to scream. He needed to cry. So many days of pure emptiness, only to crash down. He didn't want this. He didn't want it to happened. No, not again. 

He couldn't breathe. It was getting harder to take one simple breath. He tried his best to scream, only for a voice behind him to interrupt his tries--

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"_

*********

**CW: violence, mentions of rape/sexual assault of minor(s), mentions of child abuse**

Iroh dropped his cup of tea in rage, not caring that it shattered right near his feet. He stared at the scene in front of him, anger filling his lungs. He watched as the sergeant removed his hand from his nephew's face, going pale. Maybe it was because Iroh had never cursed before, but still--

_Why the fuck was he touching his nephew?_

He eyed the other man in the room; his rage intensified. He wanted to pick up the shattered pieces of the tea cup and shove them into the other man's eye. 

"Iroh," the other man-- _Zhao, his damn name was Zhao_ \--said bemusedly. "How nice to meet you again."

"Get the fuck out of my house," Iroh warned, his voice low with anger. 

"That's not any way to treat a guest."

"Get the _FUCK_ out of my house!" Iroh stepped over the shattered tea cup and hot spilled tea, not caring if it pierced his skin (it didn't, but he didn't care if it did). He stomped over to the couch, ripping the man's hand off of his nephew's hair. "Don't you ever fucking _dare_ touch this boy!"

"Or else what?" Zhao challenged, smirking at him. "What can you possibly stop that hasn't been done before?"

"You--!"

Zhao made quick work and grabbed Zuko's arm, pulling him off of the couch roughly. He stood the boy next to him, reaching for the boy's hairband and tugging it off. He looked into Iroh's eyes--panicked and enraged--as he flung the hairband somewhere in the living room and gripped the boy's hair. Zhao smirked when he heard a tiny whimper from the boy-- _his perfect little toy._ It excited him.

"What are you going to do, Iroh?" Zhao laughed, tugging at Zuko's hair even harsher. "What are you going to stop this little whore from doing--"

Iroh acted before he could process his thoughts. He jumped over the couch, grabbing Zhao by his collar and slamming a fist into the other man's nose. The old man pushed Zhao away from his nephew, pulling the man's hands off of the boy. He heard a small thud behind him, and he knew his nephew had fallen to the ground out of the sheer force he was pushed away with.

But Iroh didn't put much thought into that. Not yet.

He needed to get this _disgusting, vile creature_ out of his house.

"You _dare_ do this to me?!" Zhao shouted, clutching his bleeding nose. "You have _some nerve--_ "

"I have nerve?!" Iroh scoffed. "Didn't I tell you never to come here again?! If I knew you would be stepping into my house, I would have sent you to see Ozai instead!"

"Your damn brother is dead, Iroh."

"Precisely."

"Why defend a whore anyway?" Zhao mocked, pointing behind Iroh-- _at Zuko_. "You know all he's ever going to be good at is taking a dick up his ass! Even his father agrees!"

"Shut the _fuck up!"_ Iroh swung again, growing irritated when he saw the other man duck to avoid being hit.

"But maybe you already know," Zhao laughed. "Maybe you tried it for yourself."

"You!" Another swing, another dodge. "Mother!" Another swing, another dodge. "Fucker!"

"Was he tight?" Zhao kept taunting-- _kept laughing._ "Did you loosen his holes up yet? I fucked him for a solid year; maybe more. I doubt you loosened him up over a few days!"

" _LEAVE!"_ Iroh swept his leg under Zhao, knocking the man to the floor. 

"Ha!" Zhao laughed, masking his groan as he landed on the ground. "All that trouble... Should have just fucked his sister. Could have filled her with my cum--nice and round with a child in her--"

Iroh grabbed Zhao's shirt, dragging him out of his house. He heard choking sounds from underneath him, and he knew that the shirt was getting tight around the other man's throat, but he didn't care. He tossed the man on the pavement outside, grabbing the sergeant's arm just as roughly and dragging him out as well. 

" _You sick bastard_ ," Iroh sneered, kicking Zhao in the stomach while he was coughing on the ground. "Get the _fuck_ out of my sight! And _you_!" Iroh turned to Jet, glaring with all the rage he possessed. "If I ever see you even _looking_ at this house! Trust me, boy! By the time I'm done with you, even your own _mother_ won't recognize your face!"

Jet nodded, seemingly pale. "Y-Yes, sir--"

"GET YOUR _ASS_ OFF MY PROPERTY _NOW!_ " Iroh pointed to the road, trying to preserve what little sanity he had left. "I SWEAR TO _AGNI_ \--!"

He didn't get to finish. He watched as the sergeant grabbed Zhao and ran across the street. A part of him--a very big part of him--wanted to chase after the men and thrash them so badly. He wanted them to be unrecognizable to even the closest of family members. He wanted them dead.

But he didn't. _He couldn't._

If he did, he would risk losing the children. He could go to jail, unable to protect them from people like _Zhao--_ the man from his past. He wouldn't be there to take care of the kids...

_The kids..._

Fuck, he left them inside.

All anger (not all, but most) disappeared quickly as Iroh ran back inside his house, not stopping to explain to the neighbors that came outside. He knew the neighbors would ask questions, but he knew they would understand if he didn't explain at the moment. 

Not that he needed to. Neighbors were just nosy.

He ran inside, shutting his front door and locking it securely. He turned and hurried to the living room, seeing Zuko still on the ground. The boy had a distant look on his face, where he was neither crying nor screaming but looked as though he wanted to. Iroh rushed and gathered his nephew into his arms, dropping to his knees.

"Zuko?" Iroh's voice wobbled, but that was way past his mind. "Nephew!"

He tried to shake the boy--tried to get a response. 

No response.

Just a distant look. An unmoving boy.

"Zuko, please," Iroh begged. Why wasn't the boy responding?! "Nephew, they're gone. I promise! I'm here. Please, nephew! Look at me, please!"

Still no response.

Iroh wanted to cry. How could he not have noticed? Right under his own roof?

_He invited those men in and--_

"Zuko, please, nephew," the man let a few tears slip, not caring enough to wipe them away. "Say something, nephew. Anything... I-I..."

Nothing.

Iroh looked around, trying to blink away the tears. He quickly got off the ground, trying to stop his legs from shaking. Carefully, he lifted his nephew into his arms and carried him to the couch, setting the boy down comfortably on his back. Zuko's hair was spread across his shoulder; some strands fell in front of his face in a disorderly way. Iroh carefully brushed the boy's hair back, wincing when his nephew flinched at the touch. He had a hairband before, didn't he?

Where did Zhao throw it? Where was it?

Iroh scanned the room. Maybe it would make Zuko feel better with his hair away from his face. The man's eyes darted from his nephew to the couch to the TV to the carpet to the kitchen--

Wait.

_...Where was Azula?_

*********

Azula tried to hold her breath in for as long as she could. Maybe if she didn't breathe, Zhao and Jet wouldn't find her. She had a feeling Zuko wanted her to run away--somewhere; somehow. She was glad she slipped away. All those voices--all those curses--sounded so familiar. 

They sounded like...

**CW: descriptions of child abuse and domestic abuse**

_"You damn whore!" Ozai slammed an empty plate on the ground, right near Ursa's feet. "You call this shit food?!"_

_Ursa backed away slowly, shielding Zuko behind her. "I-I can m-make s-something else. I-I..."_

_"Are you trying to poison me?!" The man taunted, pointing to the food set on the dining table. "I come home from a long fucking day at work, and this is what I come home to?! Did your damn mother not teach you how to cook a decent fucking meal?!"_

_"O-Ozai, please--"_

_"Keep my damn name out of your fucking mouth!"_

_Ozai stomped over to his wife, avoiding stepping on the broken pieces of the plate. He yanked his son from behind the woman, dragging the kicking and crying boy back to the dining table. Ursa screamed at him--her voice watery and loud. She tried to tug her son back, but stepped on the broken pieces of the plate with her bare foot. As she doubled over in pain, clutching her now-bleeding foot, Ozai sat Zuko on a chair and began shoveling food into the boy's mouth._

_"You want to feed me disgusting shit?" He sneered at Ursa, continuing to shovel food into his son's mouth. "Let's see how this piece of useless waste likes your food!"_

_Zuko started to choke, suffocating as the food in his mouth started going down the wrong pipe over and over again. He tried to chew as best as he could, but his father kept feeding him too much--too fast._

_"You're choking him!" Ursa screamed, tears running down her face as she tried to reach for her son. "You're choking my son!"_

_"He wouldn't choke if his whore of a mother made some decent fucking food!" Ozai spat._

_"You're feeding him too fast!" She tried to get up, but the pain in her foot was too much to handle. "You're feeding him too much!"_

_"Shut the fuck up!" The man slapped his son away, looking around the room for his daughter. "Azula, come here!"_

_Azula stayed hidden behind the living room couch. She tried her best not to cry; she couldn't cry in front of her father. She shouldn't. If he found out--_

_"Don't make me repeat myself, Azula," Ozai warned. "Get your ass over here now!"_

_The girl--age four at the time--took a shaky breath in and slowly rose from behind the couch. She knew not to disappoint her father. As she walked into the dining room, she tried not to shrink under his gaze. Her eyes landed on her mother--sobbing as she clutched her bleeding foot tightly. They traveled to her brother, who was nearly turning blue as he was trying to get out of his father's grasp._

_"Eat it." Ozai gave his daughter a spoon, fully loaded with one of her mother's dishes. "How does it taste? Tell your damn mother how it tastes."_

_Azula looked at the spoon, feeling her father's scrutinizing gaze on her. It looked like plain rice, but there was a smell of grilled unagi placed just right. The girl slowly brought the spoon to her mouth, relishing in the taste._

_It was so great._

_Why was her father complaining?_

_Azula knew better to say that._ _Keeping her expression as neutral as possible, she swallowed the spoonful and looked back at her father._

_"It tastes bad," she deadpans._

_Ozai seemed pleased with that answer. He ruffled the top of her head before grabbing the spoon from her hand, throwing it at Ursa._

_"Good girl. See?!" He glared at his wife before the sound of retching filled the dining room. The man turned his head to see his son throwing up on the wooden floor, choking harshly to clear his airways. Ozai took it as a chance to point to the boy and tell his wife, "Even this son of a bitch thinks that shit tastes bad!"_

_Ursa kept sobbing. Her foot hurt; her heart ached. She flinched when her husband walked past her, heading upstairs._

_"Clean that shit up," he demanded, ascending up to his room. "All of it!"_

_Ursa stayed in her position on the floor. The pain in her foot was too much to handle. She knew there was pieces of the broken plate wedged into her bare skin. It would take so much energy just to take them out and bandage them, as well as cleaning up the kitchen..._

_Not to mention taking care of Zuko. He went sick all over the floor, and she couldn't begin to imagine the pain her son was in. Was he even breathing properly?_

_"Mama..." Azula called out, whispering as she walked towards the woman. "Mama, it tasted good. The food was good--"_

_"Just go to your room, baby." Ursa watched her daughter's socked feet stop just before the broken pieces. She didn't want to sound so harsh, but... "Mama will handle it, okay?"_

_The woman didn't want her daughter to step on the shattered plate. She watched carefully as the girl walked around her--avoiding her. Maybe she could protect one child, if not both. She knew Azula didn't mean to say what she told her father. If being a little harsh kept the girl away, then Ursa had no choice but to push her daughter away._

_Azula ran upstairs as quickly as she could. She headed for her room, closing the door and diving under her bed. The girl wanted to go back downstairs and bring her brother into her room, and maybe even her mother._

_But Ursa told Azula to go to her room..._

_Azula learned to always run to her room whenever her father started cursing._

**CW: end of descriptions of child abuse and domestic abuse**

Where was Zuko? She tried to grab him and run, but he wouldn't move. He stayed on the floor--a distant look on his face. She tried to help him. She really did.

But Jet watched her with such a hungry gaze. Azula needed safety from it. And the vile things Zhao said to her uncle...

She didn't understand half of what was said, but it sounded bad. It sounded like it would hurt. 

So she ran. She ditched Zuko, hoping that he would follow. In hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have done that.

_But she was scared._

Even now, as she hid under a bed, her heart beat a mile per second. She couldn't go to Zuko's room; Jet had been there so many times. She couldn't go to her own room; Jet had been there, too. She didn't think she'd be safe in either of those bedrooms, so she ran to the only safety she could think of.

What was his name--her cousin? Uncle Iroh had mentioned it on the first evening at this house. Lu Ten, was it?

She hid under Lu Ten's bed, just like she had on the first day she came. A part of her wanted to crawl out from under the bed and shut the door; in her panic, she left it wide open. It got harder and harder to breathe--mostly because she was holding her breath in--but because she was terrified.

_Uncle was yelling. Uncle was cursing. Uncle was mad._

_He sounded like papa._

Where was Zuko? Was he alright?

The girl let out the breath she was holding, unable to stop herself from breathing again. She half-considered going out into the hallway and dragging her brother into Lu Ten's room--right under the bed. Should she go back outside? Was it safe?

Jet and Zhao... What would they do if they saw her?

In the background, there were footsteps in the hallway. Azula gasped to herself; her panic growing ever so quickly. She quickly held her breath again. If she didn't breathe, they wouldn't find her.

Jet wouldn't find her.

Zhao wouldn't find her.

But the footsteps entered Lu Ten's room. Azula closed her eyes, letting a few tears slip.

_They found her._

She could hear the footsteps getting closer to the bed, stopping just near the end. The girl cowered into herself, fighting the urge to breathe. 

_Maybe if she didn't breathe..._

"Azula," a voice--so familiar, so _warm_ \--called out to her. "My niece, are you there?"

Iroh. It was Iroh.

Azula didn't breathe, but she opened her eyes and raised her head. Her eyes met her uncle's soft gaze.

"U-Uncle?" She finally let out the breath she was holding. A few more tears slipped out from her eyes.

"Could you please come out from under the bed, my niece?" He sounded so welcoming--so gentle.

But Azula shook her head in protest. She couldn't come out. 

If she did...

"S-Scared," she whispered, hiccuping slightly. "I-I'm... D-Don't wa-want to..."

"Scared?" he asked. "Why are you scared?"

"M-Mr. Jet..." She kept hiccuping, trying to stop herself from sobbing. "U-Uncle Zh-Zhao..."

"My niece, that man is not your uncle," Iroh explained, and he sounded so disgusted. Was he disgusted at Azula? "They won't be coming back anymore. They're gone."

"S-Still s-scared..." Her mind raced, landing on Zuko over and over again. "Z-Zuzu? W-Where i-is he?"

"Zuko is in the living room. Would you like to come see him?" 

"Br-Bring him h-here."

"My niece, you have to come out from under the bed."

"D-Don't... No." She wanted to sound firm; she really did, but she couldn't stop the sobs that bubbled out. "W-Won't... S-Scared..."

"Azula..." 

"I-I don't w-wanna stay h-here..." She sobbed, wiping at her face as much as she could. "...I-I want... S-Scared, s-so I w-want to g-go..."

"Go where, Azula?" Her uncle sounded as though he cared, but fear clawed at her mind too much to notice. "Tell me, but please, _please_ come out from under there."

"D-Don't know..." She closed her eyes, cowering into herself again. "I-I just... N-Not here... N-Not safe!"

Azula heard a sad sigh. Footsteps retreated out of the room, and that's when she knew she was alone. Jet wasn't there, nor was Zhao.

But neither was her uncle.

She wanted someone there--someone familiar; someone who cared. Where was Zuko? She wanted her brother. 

_She wanted Zuzu._

Azula stayed under the bed, sobbing in fear. In hindsight, she knew she was alone. Only her uncle and her brother were in the house, but she was the only one in Lu Ten's room. She knew she was safe.

But what if Jet and Zhao came back?

What if they snuck in through a window--coming inside without using the front door?

What if they pretended to leave, but stood just a few meters away from her uncle's house?

What if they hurt Zuko?

_...What if they hurt her?_

*********

Iroh paced back and forth in the dining room. He had a good look into the living room, and knew for a fact that his nephew was still lying motionless on the couch.

But his niece was hiding in his late-son's room, and she wanted to leave.

Iroh knew that it would be best for her to leave. He knew that she had to get out of the house for her own sake of mind. But where would she go?

Not only that, but Zuko looked so distant. Iroh knew his nephew needed some form of supervision; the boy was in shock and didn't look like he'd snap out of it any time soon. The man couldn't decide whether or not to keep Azula at home, just for his nephew's sake. The boy's sister always brought him out of panic. Shouldn't it be the same for shock?

No. That was a bad idea. Use one child to help another? Risk one person's mental health to help another?

He promised himself that he would be the best uncle. He wouldn't fail now; he would look after both children, not just one.

_Baby steps..._

First, he had to think of Azula. It sounded simple: get her out of the house. But where? Where would she go? Iroh's mind ran through every contact he knew. Did Azula know any of them? Would she feel safe with any of his friends?

He thought back to the day of the trial. How his niece wound up being friends with Katara.

Wait, that's it.

Hakoda. She could stay at Hakoda's house. The man was trustworthy, and Katara would be great company. Perhaps he should give them a call; if his niece wanted to, she could stay the night at their house.

Iroh raced to the landline phone, not knowing where his personal phone was. He dialed the number he learned through memorization, waiting for the other line to pick up. It rang three dials before--

 _"Hello?"_ It was Hakoda.

"Mr. Aput..." What should he say? "...I have a favor to ask."

 _"Iroh, please, I told you to call me by my first name."_ There was a hint of teasing. _"But go on; how can I help?"_

"I... My niece, Azula." How should he word himself? "Something bad came up. I feel that she needs to get out of the house. Clear her mind. I was wondering if..."

 _"I can take her in for the night,"_ Hakoda affirmed, seeming to get the hint. _"I'm sure Katara would like a sleepover."_

"Thank you," Iroh breathed out. "Thank you so much. I don't know how to repay you."

_"Iroh, please, it's just a simple favor. You've done so much for my family; it's only right that I help look after yours."_

"I'm still forever grateful, Hakoda."

 _"Alright,"_ the other man laughed. _"I'll come in about a few minutes. I'll bring Katara with me so that Azula doesn't feel lost."_

"That sounds great, please." A pause. "Seriously, thank you."

_"Nothing to worry about. I guess I'll see you soon."_

"Likewise." Iroh bid farewell and hung up the phone. 

Hakoda was coming over.

Iroh knew the other man wouldn't judge, but there was a part of him that felt like personal issues should only stay personal. Not that the Aput family were strangers, but trauma was so...

Five minutes. Hakoda and Katara would be at his house in five minutes. They lived relatively close, so until then, Iroh would have to keep calm. He grabbed a small dust broom and wet rag, clearing the broken tea cup and wiping away the spilled tea. He disposed of the broken pieces in the kitchen trash just in time for his doorbell to ring. 

They were here. 

Iroh went to the front door and checked the key hole. Sure enough, it was Hakoda and Katara. He quickly let them inside, greeting them quickly before shutting the door. A part of him still worried that Zhao and Jet hadn't left, despite having seen them run down the block.

"Iroh," Hakoda sounded worried, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," the older man sighed. "Or... no. Not exactly. Azula and Zuko, they..."

"Where's Azula?" Katara asked, looking around from behind her father. "Why is her brother on the couch? When did you get that couch? Is it new?"

Zuko. Zuko was still on the couch. Wait--

_Baby steps..._

"Azula is in Lu Ten's room," Iroh explained, his eyes darting everywhere in distress. "She's... hiding. Under the bed. Lu Ten's bed. She says that she's scared, but I..."

"You don't have to tell us, Iroh," Hakoda comforted before turning to his daughter. "Katara, do you know where Uncle Dragon's son's room is?"

"The one that I can't go in?" Katara asked. "Can I go in there now? Is Azula there?"

"Yes, sweetie. Could you go make sure Azula is alright?"

"Okay!"

Iroh watched as the girl scurried down the hallway. He turned back to look at Hakoda, almost wanting to embrace the man for his generosity. 

He didn't know what he'd do without the Aput family.

*********

Azula heard quick footsteps down the hallway. It sounded like someone was running towards the room she was in, and a part of her wanted to stop sobbing.

But she couldn't stop. She just sobbed louder. 

_She was scared._

Was it Jet? Was he coming back into her room? Would he kiss her again?

She didn't want that. Not again.

She tried to hold her breath again--try to mask her presence--but fear kept edging her. The more she tried to control her breathing, the louder her sobs got. All she could do was wait for someone to drag her out from under the bed and--

"Azula?" That voice... it didn't sound like Jet.

It sounded like...

"K-Kat-tara?" Azula sobbed, opening her eyes to meet a familiar face.

"Why are you crying?" The Water Tribe girl tried to reach for her hand, but Azula pulled it closer to her. Instead, she tried, "Can I come under the bed with you?"

"I-Is..." The Fire Nation girl tried to speak, but she kept hiccuping. "S-Safe?"

"Safe?" Katara looked at the other girl in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"C-Can... D-Door?" Azula cleared her throat, shyly pointing towards the direction of the bedroom door. "C-Close?"

"Do you want me to close the door?"

Azula nodded, sniffling loudly. She watched as the other girl got up from the floor and headed towards the door. She heard the sound of the bedroom door shutting, as well as the footsteps of Katara retreating. The Water Tribe girl crouched back down on the ground, looking back at Azula.

"I closed the door," Katara informed with a bright smile. "Can I come under the bed now? Please?"

The Fire Nation girl slowly shuffled to one side, silently giving the other girl a small nod. She watched as the Water Tribe girl crawled under the bed, maneuvering next to Azula's side and placing a gentle hand on her back.

"Are you okay?" Katara asked gently, rubbing the other girl's back. "Why are you crying?"

Azula shook her head, trying to silence her sobbing. 

"You can tell me," Katara pried. "I won't judge you."

"D-Don't..." Azula took a shaky breath in, letting it out slowly. "D-Don't wanna s-stay here..."

"Really? Here? But your uncle is so nice! You told me on the train, remember?"

Azula shook her head again, feeling the need to cry harder. "N-Not here. N-Not s-safe."

Katara didn't pry much. Instead she hummed to herself and offered, "What if you stayed with me for a while?"

The Fire Nation girl looked at the other girl in confusion. 

"My dad's here. He said your uncle called and said you wanted to leave," Katara explained. "If you want, you can stay with me and my family."

Azula thought about that offer. "I-Is your fa-family nice?"

"Of course! But Sokka might be annoying. He'll just show you his boomerang collection if he thinks you're bored."

"W-What's a boom... b-boom-ring?"

"A boomerang? Who cares; it's shaped like half a square. More like an incomplete triangle. It looks stupid anyway. Like Sokka."

Azula let out a tiny giggle. She slowly gravitated closer to Katara, feeling safer with her. 

She thought about the other girl's offer. According to the Water Tribe girl, the Aput family was nice. Sokka didn't seem that bad. She might have to watch out for Katara's father, but from what the other girl told her on the train ride, the man seemed like a good person. Jet and Zhao won't know where she would be.

Safety. She would be safe.

But what about Zuko?

*********

Eventually, Katara was able to coax Azula out from under the bed. The girls walked hand-in-hand out of the room, heading to the living room. Azula stayed a step behind Katara, hiding behind the other girl just in case there was someone waiting to grab her.

The minute they entered the living room, Azula's eyes landed on her brother. He was laid out on the couch, barely moving. She let go of the other girl's hand and ran to him, shaking him gently. When he didn't respond, she shook him harder.

"Z-Zuzu?" She wanted to cry; why wasn't he responding? "Z-Zuzu, are you okay?"

"Is he okay?" Katara asked softly, coming closer to Azula.

"I-I... I don't kn-know..."

"Azula, you're here," Iroh sighed in relief, walking over to his niece.

"U-Uncle," the girl stuttered, looking up at her guardian. "Z-Zuzu is... h-he's..."

"Ah, yes..." Iroh looked over at the unmoving boy, concern flashing over him. "He hasn't moved since..."

"W-Will he b-be okay?" Azula sniffled. "C-Can he come w-with me? W-With K-Katara?"

"My niece, I don't think..." The man turned to his niece, smiling to offer a reassurance. "It's okay. I will watch over Zuko, alright? He'll be safe with me."

The Fire Nation girl thought about what her uncle told her. Iroh was safe, and he was kind. Surely, her brother would be safe, right?

Even if he could come with her, how would Zuko move? He barely acknowledged her presence as it was--lost in thought, seeming farther from reality than everyone else. Her uncle would look after him. Zuko would be safe here.

Then should she leave? If Iroh was safe enough for Zuko, then surely the man would be a safety for her as well. There was no reason to leave with Katara and Hakoda if her uncle could protect her.

But should she burden him? Taking care of one kid was one thing; taking care of two was another. Would she be too much to handle? Would she take attention away from Zuko? She didn't want that; she wanted her brother to get better--to talk to her, or just to _move._

Maybe she _should_ leave. Maybe it was for the best.

Would Iroh really take care of her brother? Would he protect Zuko like he said he would?

"P-Promise?" Azula held up her pinky finger to her uncle, looking at him with a mixture of concern and worry. "P-Pinky promise?"

Iroh smiled at her; his kind eyes portrayed such trust. A part of him seemed to recognize the gesture. He intertwined her finger with his own. "Of course, my niece."

"Dad, should we go now?" Katara voiced, bubbling with excitement. She turned to the Fire Nation girl, resting a hand on the other girl's shoulder. "Azula, are you ready to go?"

Azula slowly nodded, not daring to take her eyes off of her brother. She felt herself being gently led away by Katara, somehow finding herself able to walk. She didn't realize when she put on her shoes--or whether it was Katara who helped her do so, or Katara's father. Her eyes only forced themselves to look away when she was led out the door, away from Zuko.

A part of her wanted to go back inside.

She needed to stay with Zuko.

But now she was outside. In the sun. Where Jet and Zhao could be, since they weren't inside her uncle's house. 

The panic she had forgotten came back. Azula tried to get out of Katara's gentle grasp (the girl had been leading her towards a car). She needed to go back inside. _Now._

"Azula?" Katara managed to hold onto her tighter. "What's wrong--"

"We're outside," Azula hastily whispered. "N-Not safe. They're h-here and..."

"Who's here?" The Water Tribe girl kept her hold, slowly leading Azula to her father's car. "C'mon, let's get in the car. It's safe there."

"U-Uncle doesn't have a c-car..."

"It's my dad's car." Katara pointed to her father. "And see? My dad's strong! He can also keep you safe."

"B-But there's t-two of them!"

"Then both me and my dad will keep you safe. Two versus two; Water Tribe knows how to fight!"

Azula knew Katara didn't understand who she was talking about. She knew the Water Tribe girl was just trying to comfort her, not really knowing what or who the Fire Nation girl was scared of. 

But Azula felt safer with Katara. And Zuko was safe with Iroh.

She let Katara lead her towards the backseat of the car, sitting next to her. Katara's father sat in the driver's side seat, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. The whole car ride--fairly short, since they lived nearby--was filled with Katara's chatter and Hakoda's occasional small talk. Once they arrived at the Aput residence, Katara wasted no time in pulling Azula out of the car and towards the house. Hakoda followed at a slower pace, hiding his amusement as his daughter huffed about the locked front door. Once he unlocked the door, he saw the two girl zip inside.

_Kids._

Katara practically dragged Azula to her bedroom, pointing to certain doors along the way. She mentioned giving a house tour later--if Azula wanted. With the door left open, Katara led Azula to her bed and sat next to her, unraveling a blanket. Just as the Water Tribe girl buried herself under her faux fur blanket, there was a small knock placed on the open door.

"What's going on?" Sokka asked, standing by the ajar bedroom door. "Do we have guests?"

"Nope!" Katara peaked out from under her blanket. "Just Azula!"

"Cool," he shrugged, coming into his sister's room.

Despite his sister's protests (he had his own room; why was he in hers?!), Sokka closed the bedroom door and made his way to a beanbag placed in the corner of the room, plopping down dramatically.

"School is so hard!" He groaned, placing his hands over his face just as dramatically. "I think I want to drop out."

"You're in sixth grade," Katara deadpanned. 

"The earlier, the better. Ugh, I don't want to do homework!"

"Then don't do it. Just fail. Dad will be really proud of you."

Sokka looked up at his sister with a happy glint in his eyes, pulling his hands from his face. "Really? You think so?"

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother, shuffling around her bed with her blanket still over her head. She turned to face Azula, who seemed to be amused over the conversation. 

"Did you just move here?" Katara asked her.

Azula nodded. "Yeah."

"So have you made any friends yet?"

"Not really..." The Fire Nation girl sighed longingly. "I had friends back in the Fire Nation, but now I just have Zuzu."

"Who's Zuzu?" Sokka sat up on the beanbag.

"Zuko," Azula explained. "My brother."

"Oh yeah." Sokka shrugged. "He's cool."

"Who were your friends?" Katara asked.

"There was Ty Lee; she's a year older than me. And then there's Mai. She's in the same grade as my brother. I think Zuzu has a crush on her; a tiny one. He's always red when she talks to him!" The two Water Tribe siblings laughed at her comment, and she herself laughed along before she continued. "And... oh! There's Aang, but he left to go to Gaoling after he got adopted."

"Aang? Aang Beifong?" When Katara saw that Azula looked confused, she asked, "...Is he bald?"

"Yeah, how do you know?"

"He's not in Gaoling. He's in Ba Sing Se. He's in my grade!" Katara beamed, clearly good friends with the other boy. "He said his family moved here a year ago. Gaoling didn't meet certain standards for Aang's sister."

Azula looked confused again. "What do you mean?"

"She's blind, so she used dots to read," Sokka explained offhandedly. "Gaoling didn't have the dots."

"Braille, Sokka," Katara corrected, clearly done with him. "It's called Braille."

"Whatever," the boy brushed off before turning to Azula. "Are you bored? Do you know what a boomerang is?"

"Um--" She was taken back by his question. "No...?"

"Okay, wait here. Let me go get mine and show you." Sokka bounced off of the beanbag, running out of the room and yelling back, "Stay there; don't move!"

Azula and Katara looked at each other. Katara gave the other girl a knowing look.

"I told you he's going to show you his boomerang collection," Katara reminded, a bit amused.

Azula laughed, feeling a weight being lifted off of her shoulder. Katara laughed with her, and then harder when Sokka returned with four different boomerangs in his arms. 

_Safety._

*********

Day turned to night. The sun set ever so slowly, but Zuko still hadn't moved. Iroh carefully maneuvered his nephew into a sitting position, growing worried when the boy just let himself be moved. The man was expecting at least a subtle flinch, even if it was bad to wish for.

But no response was made. No movement was felt. Zuko was just as still and distant as he was in the morning.

Iroh sat next to his nephew the entire time, taking in the silence that followed. He tried to speak to the boy--to ask him how he felt, or even to just go on about his day--but Zuko never responded back. He kept staring ahead, not once looking at his uncle. Eventually, Iroh stopped speaking, thinking that his nephew just wanted silence.

But there was still no reaction.

Just around the time evening ended--when the moon shined brightly in the night sky--Iroh picked up the TV remote and turned it on. He needed something to fill the silence, and he doubted his nephew wanted to sit in silence at this point. It was too long to stay quiet; Iroh wanted--no, _needed--_ the boy to say at least one word.

Should he put on a cartoon?

No, maybe he should bore the boy into speaking. Instead of putting on a kid's show, Iroh flipped to a news station. He placed the remote in his lap as the reporter started to talk, but watched his nephew carefully for a reaction. Any reaction.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Nearly seventeen minutes in, Iroh thought to turn off the TV. It wasn't that he was growing impatient; it was because his nephew's eyes started to droop. Maybe the boy would speak in the morning. Maybe tonight was not successful. Just as Iroh picked up the remote in his lap, the reporter proceeded with breaking news.

 _"Breaking news for the citizens of Ba Sing Se: there is an update on the Monorail crash,"_ the head reporter informed. _"Let's join the site with one of our anchors. Reporter Xin, what can we expect about the situation?"_

A Monorail crash? Was there a problem with the train station? It caught Iroh's attention just enough for him to put down the remote, watching as the scene shifted to another reporter--standing just outside the Middle Ring train stop.

 _"Thank you, Reporter Ona,"_ the second reporter said. _"As you can see, the train heading to the airport just this morning had crashed due to an engine failure. Ba Sing Se's engineers are investigating what the possible failure could have been, but still speculate that a certain wiring blew up. Citizens are warned to find a different method of transportation for the next few days, as the train will be undergoing reconstruction and safety precautions from here on forward. This unfortunate accident has led to--now known--ten casualties and forty-eight injured passengers. Ba Sing Se officials will appear for a national apology on the situation, commemorating the death of the ten victims."_

Ten people? Ten deaths? All over a simple wiring mishap... Iroh wondered how the families were reacting to this news. He wondered if those ten people had anyone to mourn them. 

_"The ten individuals who left us this morning--may their souls rest in peace--have been identified ever since. We will now announce them for loved ones, and if you are expecting any of these people to come home any time soon, the people of Ba Sing Se sincerely apologize for your loss."_

Iroh turned to look at Zuko, just to gouge his expression. The boy's face was still so distant, but there was a certain interest that sparked in his nephew's eyes as he watched the news. In the background, Iroh could hear the second reporter continuing with his news, but his eyes never left his nephew. Would he react at all? Should he turn off the TV if the news got to heartbreaking?

_"The first two fallen victims are Sheng Huang and Tiri Huang, a young couple married just two days ago and headed to their honeymoon in Omashu. May their souls rest in peace. The third fallen victim is Imi Fa, a fourth-year university student headed to a martial-arts-based internship in Kyoshi Island. May her soul rest in peace. The fourth fallen victim is Jet Freefighter, a police sergeant employed in the Fire Nation's Fire Fountain City. He was one of the good men that handled the internationally-known cases of the murders of the Sozin family. May his soul rest in peace. The fifth fallen victim--"_

Iroh quickly grabbed his remote, turning off the TV in record speed. The news shocked him immensely. He watched as his nephew's face contorted in pain, as though he was hit with the news physically. 

"Nephew?" Iroh tried to reach out to the boy. "Nephew, are you alright?"

No response. Zuko was shaking in his spot, looking at the now-turned-off TV with a wildly tortured expression. The uncle placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to be comforting.

It made him jump out of his skin when his nephew screamed.

Iroh quickly took his hand away from the boy's shoulder, scooting to the end of the couch in mild surprise. He watched as Zuko put his head in his hands, slowly curling into himself as he continued to scream. Somewhere in between, the screaming turned into agonizing wails--ones that made Iroh's heart ache.

Gathering himself out of his shocked state, Iroh slowly moved towards his nephew, scooting closer to the boy. He carefully wrapped his arms around Zuko, just as he had done on the first night that the nightmares began. 

"Nephew..." Iroh tried not to cry when he heard another tortured wail. "Zuko, please breathe... Nephew..."

The boy started to pull on his hair, tugging at the black locks harshly. Iroh slowly and gently removed his nephew's fingers away from his hair, letting them wrap around his own fingers tightly. With his other hand, Iroh pat Zuko's back, trying to place a subtle rhythm.

It worked a bit. Zuko started to breathe in patterns, even if the patterns weren't calm and normal. Iroh held his nephew in his arms, embracing him gently yet tightly. 

Eventually, the wails died down into loud sobs, which later died down to silent tears and sniffles. The uncle didn't know how long it had been, but he didn't care to find out. Even when he felt the boy go limp in his hold, taking shaky breaths in and out, Iroh's heart didn't feel lighter.

He held his nephew in his arms, not caring how long it would be. When Zuko fell asleep, exhausted from the mental turmoil his mind made him go through, Iroh didn't let go. He only held Zuko tighter, afraid of what would happen if he let go. With a heavy heart, he sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall in front of him. He thought of what happened, trying to process every little detail.

Jet was dead. The sergeant lost his life in a train accident. 

A part of Iroh was delighted. That bastard died, and he hoped Jet's death was filled with misery. He hoped it was long and painful.

But another part of him mourned for death. It didn't sit right with his conscience.

Iroh didn't know which part of him to smother. Should he gloat about the young man's death, or should he pray for his soul?

Then again, whatever happened had happened for a reason, right?

Iroh would never wish death upon any soul.

But Jet had hurt his family.

And a part of him wished Zhao was on that train with him.

Maybe this was Agni's way of protecting the family.

*********

Azula sat in Katara's room--on her bed. They were alone; Sokka had left their room an hour ago, turning off the bedroom lights and switching on Katara's nightlight. The girl's brother reminded her of Zuko, only a bit annoying. Katara mentioned how older brothers were generally annoying--how they thought they knew everything and anything. 

Maybe that was just Sokka.

Zuko was never like that.

Maybe Azula lucked out in the Older Brother Department.

She sighed, thinking about her brother. This was the first night since...

"What's wrong?" Katara asked her, peaking out from under the blanket. "You look worried."

Azula shook her head. "It's nothing."

"No, it's something. Just tell me."

"Well, it's just..." Azula sighed. "...Ever since I came to live with my uncle, I kinda shared a bed with my brother. It feels weird to sleep alone."

"But you're not sleeping alone," Katara offered, smiling at the girl. "You're sleeping in my bed. With me!"

"Yeah but... What about Zuzu? He's alone..."

"Oh..." Katara nodded, getting out from under her blanket completely. "You're worried about Zuko? If you want, my dad can drive you home. I'm sure he won't mind. I can come with you."

"I don't want to bother him..."

"It's fine. Don't worry." Katara got out of bed, padding to the door. "Come on! Let's go tell him."

"Wait!" Azula called out. "I... No."

"No?" Katara stopped, looking back at her new friend.

"I want to stay here..." the other girl explained, lowering her voice. "...I don't want to go home. I feel safer here."

"Safer?" Katara asked, but didn't pressure.

She walked back to her bed, getting back under her blanket and motioning for Azula to do the same. Once the Fire Nation girl was under the blanket, laying on her side to face the Water Tribe girl, Katara covered their heads so that they would have privacy. Even through the blanket, the two girls could make out the small starry light coming from the nightlight. They waited for either one of them to speak.

Azula broke the silence. "I feel safer here. I know I should feel safe with my brother and my uncle, but I get scared when the bad policeman comes over."

"The bad policeman?" Katara asked. "What's their name?"

"His name is Mr. Jet. Or, technically, it's _Sergeant_ Jet."

Katara thought back to the court room. "I think I saw him back in the courthouse. He brought Sokka back to my dad."

Azula nodded. "Yeah, that's him."

"What's he like?"

"At first, I thought he was nice. But then he was mean to Zuzu. I caught him lying about something, and he kept denying it. And then he told my uncle that I was a liar. I tried to tell Uncle Iroh about it, but..." Azula paused. "...It was weird. Mr. Jet said weird things that made sense. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the truth. It confused me, so I got angry at him."

"I would be angry, too," Katara sympathized. 

"But Mr. Jet got angry at me for being angry at him. He said he hurt Zuzu when Uncle Iroh took me out of the room."

"No..." Katara gasped. "That's not... Is he allowed to do that?"

"Apparently, yeah." Azula paused again, thinking back. "He said he would send Zuzu away if I told anyone. So I kept lying to my uncle."

"You should tell your uncle the truth. Maybe he will know what to do?"

"Maybe, but what if he does the wrong thing? Mr. Jet said that he would change the investigation if things didn't go his way."

"Change the investigation?" 

The Fire Nation girl stopped talking, looking at the Water Tribe girl with a searching expression. The latter girl let her search, not wanting to push too much.

"Katara," Azula whispered, "Can I trust you?"

"As much as you want," Katara offered.

"If I tell you a secret, will you tell anyone?"

"Of course not. It's a secret."

Azula held out her pinky to the other girl. "Pinky promise?"

"What's a pinky promise?"

"It's the biggest type of promise. You're not allowed to break a pinky promise."

Katara joined it with her own pinky, smiling reassuringly.

"The man that murdered your mom..." Azula started. "...He didn't kill my father. Mr. Jet found out and said he would change the investigation. If he changed it, Zuzu would go away, and I didn't want that."

"Who did it then?" Katara asked. "Why did you lie?"

Azula remained silent, not meeting the other girl's eye. Katara took the hint and didn't press further.

"But it's a good thing you lied, right?" Katara smiled gently. "The bad man is in jail now. My dad said my mom would be happy."

"Yeah..." Azula slowly met the other girl's eye again. "I guess that's a good thing."

"When my mom died, I was really scared." Katara dropped her smile just a bit. "I thought the bad man would come back. I saw what he did to my mom. I didn't want that to happen to me, or my dad, or Sokka. It was just really... scary."

"I'd feel scared, too," Azula sympathized.

"When my dad took us to the Fire Nation, I didn't think it would be bad. But everything went wrong, and the people there were really mean."

"They hurt your dad, didn't they? The policemen?"

"Yeah. And they made Sokka cry. Sokka's annoying, but he's strong. I don't think I've ever seen him cry in front of people before. And the stupid lawyer was making all of us seem like the bad guy."

"I didn't like the lawyer."

"Me neither. But I'm glad you and your brother said that the bad man was in your house. I know it sounds bad, but it really helped."

"Don't worry. I'm glad he's in jail now."

"What about the person who killed your dad? Are you worried about them?"

Azula shook her head. "No, I'm not too worried about them."

"Are you sure? Won't they hurt others?"

"They won't hurt anyone else."

Azula sounded so sure of herself. Katara had an understanding look on her face, and for the moment, Azula wondered if the other girl actually understood what she told her.

_Did she really understand? Or was she just being nice?_

Either way, they fell quiet, looking at each other in wonder. They knew that the secret was safe between just them. They wouldn't speak of it again.

_They trusted each other._

*********

**CW: mentions of rape/sexual assault of minor**

It must have been hours. Through the nearest window, Iroh could see the moon shift its position in the sky, slowly descending. If the man had to guess, it would probably be around 3 a.m. The living room clock was behind him, and he couldn't turn his head enough to look without moving the sleeping boy in his arms.

But, eventually, Zuko stirred.

As his nephew opened his eyes, there was the same distant look placed on his face. Iroh didn't want to speak, afraid to shatter the boy's fragile state somehow. He didn't know what to say. This time, however, his nephew spoke.

Iroh almost wished he hadn't.

 _"He touched me,"_ Zuko whispered, his voice scratchy from all the screaming. 

Iroh didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.

"I didn't want him to," the twelve-year-old continued, still keeping a distant look on his face. "But I never said no."

"You didn't have to, nephew," Iroh whispered back, keeping his tears at bay.

"It's my fault. Uncle Zhao said it was my fault."

"That man is not your uncle, Zuko." Iroh craved Zhao's death. "That man was never your uncle."

"He told me to call him Uncle Zhao." Zuko paused, not once looking up at his uncle. And then he spoke, but in a softer tone. "Papa knew what happened. Papa saw it."

Iroh let his tears fall. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw up. 

But not in front of Zuko. Not when Zuko was finally speaking up.

He held the boy tighter in his arms, sniffling and shutting his eyes to stop his tears.

"I'm sorry," Iroh pleaded. "Nephew, I'm _so sorry_."

Zuko didn't say anything. He didn't speak for a long time, opting to just stare at the blank TV screen with the same distant look he had in the morning. He felt his uncle comb through his hair with his fingers--ever so gently--but the feeling of his hair being loose suddenly hit him. He didn't like it, even if his uncle was being so gentle.

_Hands tugging harshly at his hair._

_His scalp hurting._

_A headache forming._

_The lingering feeling of--_

"I don't want my hair anymore," Zuko whispered, still staring at the blank TV screen. "I want it gone."

Iroh stopped combing through his nephew's hair, shocked by that confession. "Are you sure, nephew? I can tie it up for you--"

"I want it gone," Zuko demanded, a little louder but still soft-spoken. "I want it all gone."

He heard a sigh from his uncle, feeling the gentle hands fully leave. He vaguely registered his uncle getting up from the couch, bringing him onto his feet as well. Somehow, he ended up in a bathroom, where the lights were too bright on his swollen eyes. He knew his uncle was digging through a cabinet, but part of Zuko didn't care enough to wonder what it would be. In the corner of his eye, he saw an electric razor being pulled out--the cord being unraveled.

"Are you sure, nephew?" Iroh asked, plugging the electric razor into the wall.

Zuko didn't speak, but he nodded.

He felt his uncle gently hold his face in place, bringing the razor close. In a slow but steady movement, the man glided the razor across the boy's head. Zuko watched his reflection in the mirror; his eyes trailed along the falling black locks that had been shaved off. He watched until the long hair was buzzed, and all that could be seen was a gray-ish black hue covering his scalp.

Only then, when Zuko registered the fact that he was now mostly bald, he looked at the ground. By his feet laid all of hair, scattered dully on the bathroom's tiled floor. His hair was gone.

His hair was finally gone. 

He was happy, wasn't he? He made the right decision, right?

_"I like your hair."_

No, no. It was too late to regret anything.

But Sokka...

_"But I like your ponytail! It looks cool. Really manly. Like a skateboarder."_

For the second time that night, Zuko felt himself cracking. His expression morphed into one of sadness, and he couldn't stop himself from crying. He could hear his uncle console him, asking him if he was alright. The man was even apologizing for shaving his head.

But it wasn't about his hair. He wasn't crying because he lost his hair, and he tried to tell his uncle, but the words wouldn't come out.

It was about Sokka. It was about the boy that complimented his hair, even though he hated it so much. It was about the nice stranger that was so easy to talk to, thinking that Zuko was cool with a ponytail.

He could just grow his hair back, couldn't he?

Maybe when the feeling of hands tugging harshly at his hair disappeared, Zuko could grow his hair long enough to put it into a ponytail again. He could still be cool for Sokka.

But that was where the issue lied.

Zuko wasn't sure if he wanted to grow his hair back.

He wasn't sure if the feeling of hands would ever leave.

_Because the feeling was still there, only stronger._

*********

Zuko felt himself being led to his room. His uncle slowly walked him down the hallway, opening his bedroom door. Without reaching for the light switch, Iroh walked his nephew over to the bed, waiting for the child to lie down before tucking him in.

"Good night, nephew," Iroh wished, hoping that the boy's dreams wouldn't turn dark.

Just as he turned around, he felt a small tug at the back of his shirt. Iroh stopped, turning back around to face his nephew. The twelve-year-old almost looked shocked when his uncle stopped, quickly shying away and tucking his hand back into the blanket.

"Did you need something, nephew?" Iroh waited patiently for the boy to respond.

Zuko eventually did, but in a small, unsure voice. "Please... Please stay?"

It shocked the old man, but he quickly nodded. His heart swelled, relishing the moment that his nephew finally asked him to do something. 

"Would you like me to sit by you?" Iroh asked. "Or would you like me to lay down?"

Zuko didn't answer back, but he scooted to one side and pulled his blanket up. Iroh got the message and laid next to the boy, making sure to put some space between them just in case. He watched the boy as he picked at his fingernails, looking at them instead of at his uncle. When Iroh watched closer, he noticed the boy was shaking.

"Are you cold, nephew?" Iroh slowly reached over and pulled the blanket over Zuko's shoulder, nearly touching his chin.

Zuko shook his head, still picking at his fingernails. He looked uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?" Iroh pried.

"Just... no..." Zuko shook his head again, blinking rapidly when his eyes started shining with fresh tears. "...Just dark... Too dark... I'm sorry..."

Oh.

Was he afraid of the dark?

_Just like Lu Ten--_

"Could you be brave for me?" Iroh asked, knowing how to help. "I'm going to be gone for a minute, but I'll be back. Just one minute."

He saw Zuko nod, burying himself under the covers. The moment his nephew ducked under the heavy blanket, Iroh carefully got out of bed and walked out of the room. He made a quick, hesitant stop into Lu Ten's room, feeling a little guilty when he pulled out a plugged-in nightlight from the wall. As he closed the door, he quickly went around the house and turned off all the lights, realizing he left them on. He hastily made it back to his nephew's room, turning off the hallway lights and closing the bedroom door behind him.

From the bed, he could hear his nephew counting to himself. Iroh felt around the room for an outlet, contemplating whether or not he should turn on the ceiling lights. He eventually found one, plugging in the nightlight and watching it glow brightly in the dark. It was just enough light to make the room less dark, but not too bright to disturb one's sleep.

Iroh made it back to his nephew's bed, sliding in beside the boy. He heard the vague numbers of 'fifty-nine... sixty' before his nephew slowly peaked out from under the blanket, meeting his uncle's gaze.

"What were you counting for?" Iroh asked gently, slightly curious.

"Counting to sixty..." Zuko explained shyly. "...One minute."

Ah, that made sense.

"Light?" Zuko asked, raising his head slightly to look towards the source of light. 

"That's a nightlight," Iroh explained. "The room won't be dark anymore, nephew."

Zuko stared at the light for a few moments before lying back down. Iroh watched as his nephew's eyes drooped slightly. For the first time, he vaguely registered the smell of cedarwood and sweat, and slowly came to the daunting realization that Jet smelled the same way. Rage piled into Iroh's soul. 

_The sergeant was lucky he was dead._

His anger slowly faded when he heard a slight shuffle next to him. Before he could ask his nephew if he was alright, he felt a small body pull itself into his side. It wasn't long before Iroh realized his nephew had snuggled closer into him, using his extended arm as a pillow. Iroh turned to his side as carefully as possible, adjusting the heavy blanket around Zuko before draping a gentle arm around the boy.

He heard soft snores for the rest of the night. When Iroh eventually fell asleep, he saw the beginnings of dawn through the bedroom window. He awoke much later, when the sun's bright rays peaked out from the drawn curtains. In his arms, Zuko was still asleep. He smiled to himself, knowing that the boy was finally having a good night's rest.

That's when he realized that his nephew never had a nightmare.

For the first time since his stay, there was no screaming.

*********

The next morning, Azula came back from her sleepover. Hakoda dropped her off at Iroh's house, having brought Katara along with him. The two girls were attached at the hip, not wanting to let each other go. They talked the entire car ride back, and it took a lot of coaxing for the girls to finally separate. Azula bid her new friend goodbye, watching as the car drove away.

She went inside the house, excited to see her brother. The only thing was...

"Who's that?" she asked, pointing to the bald boy behind her uncle. She took a closer look and realized, "Is that... Zuzu?"

Her brother stepped out from behind the older man, putting his hands on his head to hide the fact that he didn't have hair anymore. Not that it helped much, but it kind of stopped him from being too self-conscious.

"You're bald now..." Azula mentioned, awestruck.

"Ah, yes," Iroh stepped in. "Your brother decided that a change was necessary. Right, nephew?"

Zuko nodded, still shielding his head.

"That's cool," Azula agreed, breaking out into a smile. "You kind of look like Aang!"

That caught Zuko's attention. He lowered his hands, looking at his sister in disbelief.

"Who's Aang, my niece?" Iroh asked.

"He's our friend from Fire Fountain City! He has a bald head!" Azula explained. "He moved away, but-- Oh! Katara said he goes to school in Ba Sing Se though! Maybe we can see him! He's in Katara's grade!"

Zuko tuned out the rest of the conversation. Aang was in Ba Sing Se; that's where he moved. Was he still Zuko's friend? Would he still talk to him?

But Azula mentioned...

_"You kind of look like Aang!"_

Aang was cool. He was outgoing and friendly. Everyone loved Aang.

Maybe he wouldn't look like a skateboarder anymore.

Maybe he could look like Aang.

Maybe Aang would like his new hairstyle.

To be like Aang--to be like his old friend...

Yeah, Zuko could get behind that.

*********

Over the next three days, Azula spent her nights in Zuko's room. Within those three days, their uncle washed and replaced Zuko's bedsheets, claiming that change was needed. 

Maybe it _was_ needed. Not that Zuko or Azula would protest.

The smell of cedarwood and sweat vanished. The bed smelled new again, and the siblings felt some burden lift from their shoulders. 

With every night Azula spent in her brother's room, she slowly realized that she didn't wake up in the middle of the night anymore. She thought that maybe--by some cruel luck--her ears had grown immune to her brother's screaming. 

But then she asked her uncle, and he told her the same thing.

"I don't hear anything anymore," he observed, sipping his tea. "I hope nephew is doing alright..."

"Do you think he still has nightmares?" Azula asked him.

"One will never know unless prompted with an answer, my niece."

Whatever that meant, Azula decided to make meaning out of her uncle's advice. One night, after the three nights she spent after getting back from her sleepover, she laid in her brother's bed. The ceiling lights were still on, and they were about to get ready for bed. She turned to her side and faced her brother.

"Zuzu?" She watched as he turned to face her. "Do you still have nightmares?"

"What do you mean?" He looked confused.

"You don't scream anymore. Not that it's a bad thing, but I was wondering if you're alright."

"Oh..." He thought for a moment. "...I still have nightmares, but..."

"But what?"

"...You're going to think I'm weird."

"No, I won't." She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I promise."

He searched her face before pointing to the nightlight in his room. Her eyes followed; she sat up to get a better look at the small plugged-in light. 

"The light helps," he explained. "When I have nightmares, I remember that there's a light. I don't have to wake up in a dark room anymore."

Azula laid back down, waiting for her brother to look at her again. When he did, she smiled at him.

"You know," she began, "Katara has a nightlight in her room. And she told me Sokka has one, too. He secretly uses it a lot, but won't admit it."

"Really?" Zuko asked, almost in disbelief. "So... you don't think I'm weird?"

"Weird? How?"

"For using a nightlight."

"Why would you be weird?"

"Because I'm..." Zuko looked around his room, as though someone else would be there to hear him. "...I'm scared of the dark."

"That's okay. I'm here. You don't have to be scared if I'm here."

"Won't papa be mad though? Won't he say I'm weak for being scared?"

Azula thought for a moment. It was true; her father _would_ get mad at her brother for being afraid of the dark. It didn't happen before, so she wondered what prompted his fear. 

But still...

"Papa's not here anymore," she said, squeezing her brother's hand tighter. "You don't have to be scared of having fears. He can't hurt you anymore."

_Ozai couldn't hurt Zuko anymore._

They talked in hushed whispers for a while. When their eyes started drooping, Azula got out of bed and walked to the light switch, watching as the ceiling lights went off and the nightlight went on. She walked back to bed, carefully placing her footing so that she wouldn't trip. As she crawled back into her brother's bed, she heard the boy whine that he could have turned off the lights instead.

She rolled her eyes in the dark. "Just go to sleep, dumdum."

"But, no..." Zuko kept whining, his voice laced in sleep. "...You turned... light I could have... I'm older..."

"It doesn't matter if you're older, dumdum. I already turned off the lights."

"...not... dumdum..."

The two siblings fell asleep next to each other. Neither of them stirred too much until the sun peaked out from the curtains.

There was no screaming that night either.

*********

Two weeks passed since Jet's death; two weeks passed since Zuko wanted his hair gone. Tiny stubble appeared on his head, but the boy made no mark in wanting the tiny grown hair shaved back.

Zuko sat on the living room couch, leaning towards his sister. He rested his head on her shoulder, facing the TV. Iroh put on a new pre-recorded episode of Spongebob Squarepants, deciding that this would be the new family activity. He sat on Azula's other side, watching both the children and the cartoon. Midway through, he became a little engrossed in the episode, finding the plot thickening. 

If he wasn't paying attention to the children just a little, he would have missed it.

But he didn't.

One of the characters, Patrick, made a lame joke--a joke that wasn't really that funny. Iroh didn't laugh, and he was sure Azula didn't laugh either. This wasn't their type of humor, as Iroh observed in the days of their stay.

But there was a small giggle. A tiny one--one that would have been missed if he wasn't paying that much attention.

Iroh's heart skipped a beat; he turned his head so quickly to his side. That's when he heard it again--another tiny giggle.

From his nephew.

The boy's eyes were transfixed on the screen. A small smile spread across his lips. His mouth was slightly open to let out another--

_His nephew was laughing. His nephew was smiling. His nephew was happy._

Iroh turned away from the children, feeling a smile try to force its way onto his face. He raised the volume of the TV just a little, turning his eyes to the moving animations. He quickly dabbed at his eyes, trying to stop his happy tears.

He heard it again. Another giggle. The fourth one this evening.

It was so small. So tiny.

_But his nephew was laughing._

_His nephew was smiling._

_His nephew was happy._

It took all of Iroh's strength not to cry in the middle of a happy cartoon. 

*********

A week after his nephew's small laughter (it was still so fresh in his head; it was such a happy little moment), Iroh realized that the food in his refrigerator was depleting once again. He rounded the children up that morning, telling them that they were going grocery shopping again. He was surprised by the willingness of _both_ of the kids agreeing.

_Not just Azula._

As they walked to the store, Iroh made sure to shield Zuko away from the crowd of pedestrians on the street. He casually held out out his hand in case his nephew needed extra support. The old man was more than happy to hold onto the boy's hand, and when his nephew eventually slid his palm into Iroh's, he grasped it firmly.

Once they got into the store, Iroh kept his nephew close, quickly learning how badly Zuko did in crowds. By an extension, he even swarmed his niece closer to him, not letting her wander off too far. The trio made it around the store, eventually getting to their last stop. Iroh nudged the children into the ice cream section, remembering how Azula ate all her mochi since the last time she bought some. He stood at the side of the aisle, watching over the children but giving them space.

Azula came back with the same chocolate and vanilla mochi assortment she got last time. He smiled at the girl and put it in the shopping cart, getting ready to call out to his nephew. Just as he turned around, facing the aisle, he couldn't see the boy anywhere.

_Gone. He was gone._

Iroh started to panic. He looked at Azula, about to ask her if she saw her brother. Before he could open his mouth, he felt a small tug at the back of his shirt. Iroh swiveled around quickly; his panicked gaze landed on Zuko.

_He wasn't gone. He was here. Zuko wasn't gone. He was--_

Iroh watched as his nephew slowly held up a carton with shaky hands. He took it from the boy, examining it. Once he realized what it was, he beamed widely at the twelve-year-old, happily putting the carton into the shopping cart. The man asked the children if they wanted anything else from the store. After they confirmed that they didn't, Iroh ushered them to the check-out station, loading the contents in the shopping cart onto the conveyor belt. 

As his hands placed the food near the cashier, he mentally assigned a small tag to some of them.

_Mangoes for Iroh._

_Strawberries for Azula._

_Lychees for Zuko._

He placed more items of the conveyor belt, not bothering to tag them. Once he was down to the last three items in his shopping cart, he finished mentally tagging.

_Assorted tea packets for Iroh._

_Chocolate and vanilla mochi assortments for Azula._

_Mint chocolate ice cream for Zuko._

Iroh watched as the cashier scanned the items. His heart felt heavy with joy. He looked over at his nephew, who seemed to be eyeing his carton of ice cream. Iroh's eyes welled up.

He personally never liked mint chocolate ice cream. The toothpaste-flavored disaster was as horrible in taste as the person who came up with the idea in the first place. 

But Ursa had liked it. She begged Iroh to buy her some whenever she caught him alone. If happiness meant indulging on Bad Ice Cream, then he wasn't going to stop the indulgence.

He waited for the cashier to finish scanning the items. He paid and started loading the grocery into his bags. His hands lingered on the mint chocolate ice cream container for a bit longer than the other food items. 

If, by any chance, his nephew really enjoyed eating Toothpaste Disaster Ice Cream, then...

_...Baby steps._

*********

A few days later, Azula found herself with another sleepover at Katara's house. The Water Tribe girl begged her father--and then begged Iroh--to let Azula stay over for another night. The uncle let her go with a warm nature, happy to see her so excited.

She made a new friend. Who was he to get in the way of that?

A little after Azula left to go to Katara's house, Iroh decided that the house needed a change. He made an excuse to himself--telling himself that dust was gathering in every corner of the house. In reality, he wanted the house to reflect a new beginning.

Everything eased up, didn't it? Though not by much, things were getting better.

The children deserved a new beginning.

Iroh picked out his cleaning supplies and started to work his way around the house. He moved furniture here and there; he made sure dust didn't live another second in the many corners of the house. Halfway through his cleaning, while he was fluffing the cushions of the couch, he felt a small tug at the back of his shirt. The man turned around to find his nephew, looking up at him with curious eyes.

"Ah, nephew!" Iroh laughed. "You surprised me!"

The boy didn't respond.

"I was just cleaning a bit," Iroh explained, gesturing to the couch. "No need to worry! I think I'll be done soon!"

"I..." Zuko whispered, looking away from his uncle. "...Help?"

Iroh was surprised, trying to make meaning of what his nephew said. It wasn't a full sentence, but it was the most the boy had spoken to him ever since the night he wanted his hair gone. 

"You want to help, nephew?" Iroh clarified.

The twelve-year-old nodded slowly. 

"You don't have to, my boy." The uncle smiled, cooing at the boy. "Don't stress yourself out, okay?"

"Want to..." Zuko cleared his throat, speaking softer. "...I want to..."

"Well, then..." Iroh thought for a minute, not expecting the boy to help him. Would this be normal? What should he do? "...Why don't you help clean Azula's room then? Does that sound good?"

He watched as his nephew padded down the hallway, presumably going to his sister's room. Iroh knew the girl hadn't been spending any time in her room, other than to get clothes or things she left there. It would likely be the least dirty--the least strenuous. Zuko wouldn't work himself out; Iroh was sure about that.

In the meantime, the uncle looked around the living room and kitchen. He felt as though everything was cleaned thoroughly and rearranged well. 

_New beginnings..._

He decided to look through the rooms, trying to see if there was anything to clean there. He couldn't possibly rearrange the furniture in the children's rooms; those were their rooms now, and he knew he shouldn't overstep boundaries of privacy. Perhaps he could look into Zuko's room for a bit, just to see if there was anything to clean. Or Lu Ten's room...

No, not Lu Ten's room. 

He didn't have the right to go into that room and just...

Zuko's room it was. Iroh walked down the hallway, heading to his nephew's room. The bedroom door was wide open; Iroh walked inside cautiously and looked around.

Everything was so clean--so put together. Every item had a place, and every place had an item. Was his nephew a clean little human? It kind of amazed Iroh; it was kind of adorable. 

Iroh took a quick look around the room before deeming it alright. Just as he was about to walk outside, he saw something in the corner of his eye--on the nightstand by the bed. He turned and walked over to it; his curiosity got the best of him. Once he was closer, his eyes widened in amazement.

It was the Rubik's cube.

_Solved completely._

But how...?

Iroh was right; his nephew was a smart boy. He smiled at the cube, knowing how much perseverance it took to solve the Cube of Frustration. The man was about to walk away, thinking that his nephew didn't want him to know. He thought it would be a little secret. He didn't want to push the boy. He didn't want the boy to feel uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to go, something else caught his attention. Underneath the Rubik's cube was a note. Iroh gently picked up the cube and set it aside, leaving the little post-it note exposed. He picked it up, bringing to closer to his face so that he could read.

His eyes welled up. If Iroh cried, he didn't care. He stood in his nephew's room, trying to muffle his sobbing with one hand. He clutched the small note gently in his other hand, careful not to crinkle it as he read and reread it multiple times.

_For Uncle Iroh,_

_I'm not bored anymore._

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this update is all over the place or doesn't make much sense? I couldn't make time to reread everything and find the correct translation for a few sentences, so if there are any repeating words or sentences that don't make sense, please let me know! I was pretty swamped with assignments left and right from school, so I don't think this chapter turned out as great as I intended...
> 
> Let me know how you think the chapter-update is!


	14. Writer's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an update.

To be transparent, I do expect negative comments for this story. It's not the most lighthearted, and it's certainly not for everyone. I do take constructive criticism, so if it's left, I will most likely respond to it and take it as a learning experience.

But to leave death threats...? Over a story...?

Albeit, it's not _just_ a story. It's dark, and for what it's worth, it's heavy.

That being said, no one is forcing you to read this. I mentioned that it was a dark fic in the very beginning, as well as in the tags. Per request, I even put warnings in the beginnings of every chapter. 

I'll admit: when the comments get too much, I delete them. Since most are left via anonymous commenting, I'd usually report them as spam. Have I considered moderation? Yes, but I don't want to limit people's words in any way. I don't know how to explain it; I want people to be able to say what's on their mind. Plain out death threats, on the other hand, should be kept on a leash. 

Like I mentioned, this story isn't _just_ a story. It's trauma written over the course of chapters; it's dark and heavy. Do people just honestly expect normal human beings to come up with this sort of originality out of the blue? Do people not realize that-- _somehow and somewhere_ \--a person might need to experience this type of stuff to write about it in such detail and precision?

These characters are fictional. I, on the other hand, am not. Most of the stuff in this story are experiences I've dealt with.

So, as a way to please the anonymous commenters that keep their trend of telling me that I "need to die over writing something so sick," I've prepared a list of answers!!

Am I sick in the head? Most likely, yes. Trauma does that to people. 

Why would I write this? It's my way of coping. Not everyone can afford to seek out therapy. I can't afford to add in the cost of weekly/bi-weekly therapy sessions anymore, especially during a pandemic--especially as a college student. Sure, when this all clears up, then I can start making more and afford therapy again, but in the meantime, this will be my short escape.

Should I kill myself over this? Tried to in the past many years ago; it didn't work. Instead, I'm working through it now. Sorry to burst your expectations.

What will I do if you randomly come up to me in public and bash me in the head? I would honestly wonder how you found out it was me, or how you found out where I was in the first place. None of my irl friends know about this; I've kept this all a secret from people I know for a good reason. Why would I expect a total stranger to know things about my life that I haven't told the people I consider family?

Just as a side note: not everything in this story is a personal experience. Example: Azula killing Ozai. Not once have I murdered someone. Not once have I framed another person for my wrong-doings. Most likely never will; I'm too socially-awkward to even do so in the first place.

But a character being assaulted by their parent's family friend? A character trying to protect their younger siblings from that happening to them? A character moving away as soon as there was an opening to do so? That I can related to 110%, plus other incidents that have happened in this story.

To the people that have been nothing but supportive and encouraging: thank you. You all might not really know what it feels like to see others want to defend a character from something bad happening to them. The amount of times I see someone commenting that they want to wrap Zuko in bubble wrap and protect him from the world...

It honestly makes a person want to cry. Especially when they've never had this kind of support. I know Zuko is a fictional character, but in this story, I've never related to him more. Even in the series, you see snippets of his life that are honestly so sad, but you might not ever think to pause and wonder if it happened to someone else before. 

To the people that offer constructive criticism for my writing: thank you to you, too! I'm not being sarcastic at all (I know that sounds sarcastic, but believe me, I'm not). Conveying my writing in what I think is an accessible language for others to read is hard. It's my third language, but I want to connect with a lot of people. Thank you to those that have pointed out mistakes in my writing and helping me grow!

Now, to the people who keep anonymously commenting on this story, telling me that I need to get vibe checked: No one's stopping you from leaving, bro. No one's holding you hostage and demanding that you read every bit of detail in this story. No one's preventing you from closing this story and moving onto a new one. No one's telling you not to read the tags; they're there for a reason.

As the saying goes: don't like, don't read. If you find this story too dark and heavy, I really don't know why you're waiting until Chapter 9-12 to say that you don't like what's written. What happened in the first eight chapters? The build-up for gore is RIGHT THERE. Why go out of your way to tell me things that I warned you about?

I honestly couldn't care less if you told me to go kill myself over this. At my point in life, I know there's much more to live for. But why take time out of your own day to be so burdensome? It's honestly pretty amusing, but don't insult yourself like that. 

I'm deeply sorry for the rant, but all this needs to be addressed. Don't like, don't read; simple as that.

If more needs to be mentioned, I'll do so in later chapters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted in thirty to sixty days from now <3


	15. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Families are often different from one another, but the past always repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: panic attacks, mention of character death(s)
> 
> SIDE NOTE: I was breaking down so many times while writing this chapter (over personal matters). So I'm really sorry if it sounds a bit repetitive with words.

"So..." Katara looked around her room before her eyes landed on Azula. "...What do you wanna do?"

Azula stood in the middle of Katara's room, shrugging at the question. They planned for an impromptu sleepover, seeing how many days they spent away from each other. It wasn't necessarily a long time; Azula just didn't have many people to talk to.

"I don't know," Azula admitted, looking at her friend in confusion. "But you invited me. I thought you had an idea."

Katara sighed, "But I don't have an idea..." 

The Water Tribe girl walked over to her bed and flopped onto it. She laid on her stomach--completely facing down as though she didn't have motivation to get up. The Fire Nation girl watched her as she laid there, awkwardly standing in the middle of the bedroom. Katara wracked her brain through every possible thing she could do. Her father had gotten an urgent call, leaving the kids by themselves. With Sokka being in charge, there really was nothing to do other than stay home. It's not like Sokka could drive. And he was fairly boring when he was busy with his own thing (according to Katara). 

_Unless..._

When a thought occurred, she jumped off of her bed and ran up to Azula.

"I know!" Katara exclaimed.

Azula backed away from the other girl, putting some space between them. "What is it?"

"We can go ask Sokka!"

"Your brother?"

"Mhm!" Katara began walking to her door, dragging Azula along. "He usually has great ideas! We can go ask him!"

"Oh." Azula let herself get dragged out of the room, not knowing what else to do. "But what if he doesn't have an idea?"

"Then we can just bother him until he tells us to go away."

"'Kay," Azula agreed, nodding to herself.

_Yeah, that sounded like a good idea._

*********

Sokka stared at the two girls in front of him, feeling a vein pop on his forehead. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but he was in the middle of doing homework. He needed to write a summary for a book he was assigned to read, and he _hated_ reading. Just as he got into the mood of getting his homework done...

"So let me get this straight," he clarified, grumbling slightly. "You came to bother me because you two were _bored_?"

"Yup," Katara confirmed.

"While I'm in the middle of doing my homework?"

"Yup."

"And you think this is a good idea?"

"Yup."

Sokka looked over at the book in his hands. _The Giver,_ or so it was called. He really didn't want to read, but he needed to. This assignment was due tomorrow, and he had pushed it off for as long as he could. He needed to finish the book. He couldn't afford to--

"Is that a good book?" Azula asked, curiously leaning forward.

"Huh? Oh..." Sokka flipped to the cover of his book and sighed, "I don't know. I just picked it up."

He handed the book to the Fire Nation girl. She took it without hesitation, staring at the cover before opening to a random page and scanning the text. Katara leaned into Azula, looking over her shoulder as she too started reading. Sokka didn't understand it--how they could read so effortlessly. 

_Something was wrong with them._

_Even his father liked to read._

_Maybe he was the only normal one._

"I think I read this before..." Azula muttered, turning to Sokka. "I guess it's a good book. My brother really liked it, but I didn't really find it all that interesting."

"Really?" Sokka grabbed the book from the girl's hands, reading over the page she flipped to. "I was looking forward to reading it, but now..."

"Why do you have to read it?"

"For homework, but ugh..." The boy closed the book and laid it on the ground, right where he was sitting and doing his homework. "...I don't want to do homework!"

Azula's mind short-circuited from that confession. She grew perplexed.

_Didn't want to do homework?_

_Wait, that didn't sound right..._

No, no. Nothing about that statement was right. You weren't _allowed_ to admit not wanting to do homework. What would Sokka's dad think? Wouldn't he be mad?

A moment of silence passed before Azula coughed awkwardly. She tried to stop herself from fidgeting in place, but her leg started ticking from where she stood.

"Um," the Fire Nation girl began, "I guess, since I read it, and I'm pretty sure you're really smart and all, but I don't know, I was just wondering if--maybe, you know--I could tell you what it's about?"

Sokka looked at her for a solid few seconds before asking, "Are you okay...?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah," Katara added, a little concerned. "You're shaking. You good?"

"Oh. I..." Azula cleared her throat, trying to stop her leg. Why was she fidgeting? 

_Why was she so nervous?_

"Hey, hey," Sokka waved his hand in her face, trying to get her attention. "Uh, thanks? For offering about the whole summary thing. I'd like some help, if you were serious."

"Really?" Azula asked, feeling a little relieved. "Okay, good."

"Why were you shaking?" Katara asked again, trying to steady her friend by her shoulders.

"Oh." Was she really fidgeting that badly? "I don't know. Just thought Sokka would get mad."

"Why would I get mad?" The boy seemed offended by the assumption. "Dude, I'm getting _free_ homework help! What kind of weirdo would get mad?"

Katara opened her mouth to combat his statement. Her eyes glistened with glee as she brought up, "Remember the time I tried to correct your math homework and you threw a tantrum?"

"Nope." Sokka shook his head. "Didn't happen."

"Yeah, it did!" 

"I can't hear you!" The boy covered his ears defiantly.

"You're just mad that I'm right!"

"BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH--!"

Azula watched the two siblings bicker. From what she gathered, Sokka loved math. He didn't want to be proven wrong on his favorite subject. Katara was on the verge of smacking the life out of her brother, which didn't stop the older sibling from yelling louder.

For a split second, Azula was taken back. They were yelling. They had to mad, right?

No. This was different.

Somehow, it felt safer. 

Not like her father. Ozai was loud and aggressive, and it felt scary.

Not like her mother. Ursa was loud when she panicked, and it just instilled the fear of being hurt.

Not like her brother. Zuko was loud in an agonizing way, almost tortured to the point that his screams echoed in her mind. Azula never wanted to be hurt like her brother; she didn't want to scream like him. Especially in the dead of night--when people were supposed to be sleeping. 

Azula wasn't allowed to be loud. Being loud meant something bad. Sure, she's been loud before, but it always bad when she yelled. 

Screaming at her father was bad. It made her _kill_ him.

Screaming at the sergeant was bad. She gave him a reason to hurt Zuko.

Screaming at her uncle was bad. She _cursed_ at him.

Screaming for her brother was bad. It made him panic, and he was always getting hurt because of her.

But Sokka and Katara? They were loud, but there was no malice or hurt in their voice. Somewhere (she didn't know where, but it was there), there was a hint of joking. A hint of love. A hint of care. She realized that, despite yelling at each other, Sokka and Katara would never _actually_ hurt each other.

Azula realized that maybe-- _just maybe_ \--loud voices could sometimes be safe. 

*********

Eventually, the two Water Tribe siblings had gotten loud enough to the point that Sokka's voice cracked. It startled all three children, but Katara started laughing the moment she processed what happened.

"Stop laughing!" Sokka demanded, covering his mouth with both hands. "I'm a growing boy!"

Katara rolled on the floor, clutching her stomach.

"It's just puberty!" The boy tried to reason, but turned red in embarrassment. "I'm going to tell dad that you're making fun of me!"

"Okay, okay!" Katara got off the floor, wiping the tears that collected in her eyes. She looked at Sokka with the firmest expression on her face before mimicking a voice crack, "Sor- _ry_ , Sok- _ka_."

"Katara!" 

"Y- _es_ , Sok- _ka_?"

"Tui and La, that's not even how I sound!"

"O- _kay_."

Azula stood there, looking at the two siblings. This was, in the plainest terms, awkward. She felt like a third-wheel. In the corner of her eye, she saw Sokka's book sitting on the floor. With nothing better to do, she sat on the floor and opened up the novel.

_Might as well refresh her memory._

*********

The bickering ended eventually. Azula didn't notice until Sokka tapped her on the shoulder and demanded to know about the book. Katara sat on the floor next to her, finding herself a little interested in knowing what the plot was about. The three sat on the floor, facing each other as they bonded over the book.

Sokka took his notebook and a pencil, writing down small notes that he wanted to use for his summary. He concentrated heavily on what Azula was telling him, trying to picture all that he could from what she was telling him. The boy stuck out his tongue in focus, furrowing his eyebrows as he vigorously wrote as much as he could. 

Katara listened to her friend with wide eyes. Her curiosity peaked the more Azula talked about the book, even if she didn't quite understand what was going on. Quite frankly, she could care less about the book; the cover looked boring, even if she knew she shouldn't judge a book by its cover. She was just intrigued by the way Azula talked. It hadn't been long since her frined started shaking for some unknown reason (Katara didn't believe Azula when she first explained why), so she was just happy that the Fire Nation girl was less fidgety around them.

Even then, she could at least admit that the book seemed _just a little_ interesting.

As the Water Tribe siblings engrossed themselves in the words of the Fire Nation girl, Azula had a hard time trying to make sense of the book in her hands. She read it before; she swore she did. She just needed a little refresher. It had been a long time--a year, perhaps?--since she last picked up this particular book. As she went through the plot from her memory, she couldn't help but flip around to certain pages and rereading the text.

She tried to make it less awkward for everyone--quickly flipping around and skimming through as she told the two siblings about the story. Once in a while, she would look up and see Katara gently smile at her, encouraging her forward. Azula knew Sokka was too busy taking notes, but he looked like he was struggling trying to visualize the whole story. The Fire Nation girl tried to make it easier for her friend's older brother--tried to help him, since she said that she would--but she wasn't animated enough.

She _knew_ she wasn't animated enough, and not even Katara's gentle smiles would take away from that fact.

 _Zuko_ was animated. When he told stories, he told them so visually that it _just made sense._

She recalled every night when they were back at home--back in Fire Fountain City. When she couldn't sleep, and her mother ( _before she was dead--_ ) was too tired from the day's work ( _and her father's beatings--_ ), Zuko would tell her a story. About dragons that ruled the land. About a princess waiting for her knight. About the ways the spirits would talk--some by rain and others by wind. About why earthquakes were heavy, only to grow soft. About why there was thunder in the sky, or why the stars lit up the night. 

Each story was different; most didn't even make sense. But he had a way with words, and every word carried an image. Those images pulled at her mind, and they tired her enough to go to sleep. 

Maybe if her brother was here, Azula wouldn't have had to struggle so hard. Maybe it wouldn't have been so awkward and boring when she retold the story. But Zuko wasn't here. Her, on the other hand? She was here. She could at least try, right? For Katara? For Sokka?

_Yeah, she could try. Because that's what friends were for._

As she neared the end of the story, relief came to her. Azula quickly wrapped up her retelling, skimming over the last few words of the text before slamming it shut. She monotonously stated a small, "The End," as she put down the book and flopped onto her back. The carpeted ground below her felt a bit cool, and she was ever thankful for it.

_After her tremendous storytelling feat, she deserved to cool her brain down._

Azula heard the furious scribbling of a pencil on paper (notably Sokka), as well as the praises sung from Katara's lips. As the Water Tribe girl congratulated Azula on her retelling of the book, Sokka put down his pencil and stared at his notes. His eyebrows furrowed deeper.

"Okay, but I'm confused," he admitted, staring deeply at his notes. "Why is the main character called the 'Receiver'?"

"Because he received memories from the Giver," Azula answered, still lying on the ground. She sounded a bit tired. "The Giver gave the Receiver visions and stuff; I honestly don't know."

"Why do you even _need_ a Giver? Or a Receiver, for that matter?"

"Because the society was wack," Katara answered firmly, nodding at her own response.

"Makes sense..." Sokka looked over his notes again before asking, "But why ' _The Receiver'_? Why couldn't it be ' _The Taker'_? It's easier to say."

"Maybe the author just wanted to sound smarter," Katara offered.

"But why complicate words? It doesn't even make sense."

"Receive and take mean just about the same thing. It wouldn't really matter much if the words were changed."

"I refuse to believe you."

"They're synonyms, Sokka."

The boy looked around the room, confused at his sister's words. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he turned to the girl and asked, "Where's the cinnamon?"

" _Synonyms,_ Boomerang Brain!" Katara reached over and grabbed the book from next to Azula, throwing it at her brother's head aimlessly. "Not _cinnamon._ Synonyms!"

"Bro, chill!" Sokka shielded his face when Katara reached for his notebook, once again aimlessly throwing at him.

"Don't tell me to chill!"

"Or else what?!"

"Or else--" Katara froze, looking over at Azula. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sokka scoffed. "After you tried to annihilate me with a book and my notes, you're telling me you'll do nothing?!"

"Shhhhhhh!" The girl aggressively brought her index finger to her lips, shushing her brother. "Azula's sleeping!"

True to her word, the Fire Nation girl had fallen asleep on the floor. She had worn herself out. Sokka silently scooted over to the sleeping nine-year-old and poked her cheek with the eraser-end of his pencil. When Azula stirred in her sleep, Katara quickly walked over and smacked her brother upside his head.

"Don't do that!" she whispered scoldingly, reaching over and taking Sokka's pencil. 

"Ow..." Sokka rubbed at the back of his head. "I think you knocked out my brain cells..."

"What brain cells? You'd be lucky to have a brain in the first place."

"I have a brain!" When he was shushed again for yelling, Sokka lowered his voice and repeated, "I _swear._ I have a brain."

"Sometimes I wonder if that's true."

"It's true!" Another smack. "I wasn't even that loud!" Another smack. "Do that again and I'll tell dad that you're hitting me!" Another smack. "Katara!"

"What don't you understand about being quiet?"

The boy scoffed, muttering to himself, "As if you're quiet on a daily basis..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." He looked around his room before his eyes landed on Azula. "Should we just... leave her there...?"

The Water Tribe siblings looked at the sleeping girl, quietly watching over her. The silence got a little awkward before they turned to each other, trying to make the awkward atmosphere go away somehow. Sokka thought back to what happened about half an hour ago. He looked over at Azula one more time before turning back to his sister.

"You remember how she was shaking?" he asked.

"Yeah..." Katara looked at her friend in concern. "Do you think Azula had a bad day or something?"

"I don't know..." Sokka thought back again, trying to remember what he saw. "...Is it just me, or... Nevermind."

The girl turned to her brother. "What?"

"It's nothing."

"Just say it."

He fumbled with his words, trying not to sound too accusatory as he asked, "...Do you think she looked scared?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe it was just me." Katara sat on the floor, next to her brother so that she could whisper better. "Do we scare her?"

"Not you. You're her friend." Sokka's face fell a bit, feeling as though he was responsible. Azula didn't really know him, so perhaps... "Maybe me. Maybe she's just scared of me."

"Who would be scared of you?" Katara rolled her eyes, nudging her brother. "You're like a fly. Annoying but harmless."

"Some wild flies try to crawl into your skin and lay eggs. I don't think flies are _completely_ harmless."

"Where the heck did you even learn that?"

"I'm telling dad you said a bad word."

"Heck's not a bad word, Boomerang Brain."

"Heck is a mixture of _hell_ and _fuck_."

Katara gasped. "You just said two bad wor--"

"So I was thinking that maybe we could do something for your friend?" Sokka effortlessly changed the subject, still feeling a little concerned over Azula. "I don't know. Maybe make her feel less shaky or something."

Katara looked as though she wanted to point out her brother's obvious hiccup, but decided against it. She thought about what he said, looking over at her friend in concern and sighing, "Sure, but what?"

What could they do? Did Azula just have a bad day? Was she really scared of them?

In hindsight, she was now a friend. If they considered their Uncle Dragon's home their own, then she could consider their home her own. The two siblings counted every one of their closest friends as their family, and Azula was by far one of Katara's closest friends now. 

What could they do to make her feel like she was family?

Sokka and Katara turned to look at each other at the same time. A glint of delight lit up their faces. An idea occurred to them. 

_Mission: Less Shaky, More Wakey._

*********

Azula didn't noticed when she passed out. All she remembered was staring at Sokka's bedroom ceiling, feeling the cold carpeted ground underneath her, and then being shaken awake by a very excited Katara. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the tiredness as she sat up. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing how it had gotten a bit darker.

_How long had she been asleep?_

"Are you okay?" Katara asked her. "You slept for a pretty long time."

"How long?" Azula asked, her voice laced in sleep.

"It's been..." The Water Tribe girl swiveled to the open bedroom door, yelling at the top of her lungs, "SOKKA!"

A voice came from the hallway. "TUI AND LA, _WHAT_?"

"HOW LONG WAS AZULA ASLEEP?"

"THREE HOURS!"

"OKAY! THANKS!"

"WHATEVER!"

Katara turned to Azula, brightly smiling at the other girl and answering, "Three hours!"

Azula nodded, processing her friend's words. As far as she remembered, she got here at around 2 p.m. They spent an hour or so on the summary of the book. And then she spend three more hours sleeping. It had to be around 6 p.m., right? Was that why it was so dark--because it was already evening time?

Had she wasted her entire day sleeping? Did she waste Katara's day? The other girl wanted to hang out, but Azula blatantly fell asleep. Was Katara mad at her? Were they still friends? Not to mention, was Sokka mad that she fell asleep on his bedroom floor? 

"So..." Katara coughed, getting the other girl's attention. "I'm really sorry if I scared you in any way..."

_Wait... what?_

_Why was Katara apologizing?_

_Did Azula do something wrong?_

Azula opened her mouth to try and clear up the situation. She needed to fix this somehow. Katara wasn't _supposed_ to feel sorry. What had Azula done to make Katara apologize? Something was wrong.

What was wrong? How does she fix this?

"I'm..." How should Azula approach this? She was so confused. "...I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Katara looked at the other girl in bewilderment. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't..." Why was it getting hard to breathe? "I'm not... sure..."

She heard Katara's voice in the background, but the muffled voice barely reached her ears. Azula was confused--trying to stare at Katara and make sense of what the other girl was saying. Her vision started to blur, and she didn't know if it was because she was crying ( _was she crying?_ ) or because she felt dizzy ( _why was she dizzy?_ ). She turned away from Katara, staring near her feet.

She needed to concentrate.

_But why?_

_What was going on?_

There was a pounding in her chest, and it took her a while to realize that she suddenly couldn't breathe at all.

Maybe if she coughed...?

Azula tried coughing out a breath, but it only made things worse. She balled a hand into a fist and hit the center of the chest, trying to breathe. In muffled increments, she could hear the sound of footsteps and yelling. She tried gasping for air, only to feel her throat close up.

_What was happening to her?_

**_*****_ **

Hakoda had always been told that he was a good father. Be it from his late-wife, his cousin Bato, or even just complete strangers. Both Sokka and Katara told him that he was a good dad. Hell, even Iroh reassured him multiple times that he was a good father. 

But he didn't feel like a good father most of the time.

There were times he doubted himself. There were times he just wished he took his wife's place. Kya would have done a better job at parenting--much better than he was doing so far. There were times he wondered whether he made the right choice: moving out of the Southern Pole and taking his kids away from their childhood home. 

Come to think of it: what would have happened if he wasn't in the backyard three years ago? What would have happened if Kya was with Sokka, while he was busy distracting Katara with a simple game of hide-and-seek? 

He still remembered the day the police was called. He still remembered how they reviewed every single camera footage they could--trying to find the man that murdered his wife in cold blood. He still remembered his mother yelling at him, berating him for being so irresponsible.

_"What is the use of being a man?!" Kanna shoved Hakoda, tears streaming down her face. "What is the use if you cannot protect your own family?!"_

_Apologize, said the little voice in his head. Hakoda desperately wanted to apologize, but his tongue was caught in his mouth. He didn't know how to speak._

_Another shove. "What were you doing that was so important?!"_

_He refused to cry in front of his mother. He already cried enough. It would just be redundant now._

_"Did you not hear your daughter scream?!" Another shove, but it felt harder this time around. "Why did you wait?! We all saw that footage! Why did you wait until the man left to go check up on your screaming child?!"_

_"I'm sorry," Hakoda whispered. It was barely audible, but he still didn't know what to say._

_He felt a sudden sting to the side of his face. It took him a while to realize that he was slapped. He looked up at his mother--shocked beyond belief. She had never hit him before. Never._

_Kanna was silently crying, but this time she didn't yell. When she spoke, her voice was quieter. For some reason, it held more disappointment than Hakoda wanted to hear._

_"Sorry won't bring her back," his mother told him. "Sorry will never fix the past--a past that you could have prevented."_

_He knew his mother was grieving. Kanna loved Kya as though she was her daughter. She was ever so grateful that her son married such a wonderful woman, and then proceeded to give her daughter-in-law more love than she showered her own son with. Hakoda didn't mind, however. He loved his wife, and he loved his mother. He took every chance he had to tease them both, saying that he felt as though Kya married his mother rather than him._

_But damn, if those words didn't hurt him..._

_He knew his wife's death was preventable. He just wished he acted faster--more concerned towards something he figured was normal._

_"You should be ashamed of yourself," Kanna spat, holding more weight in her words the more she spoke. "A horrible husband, and a horrible father."_

_Hakoda considered showing some form of emotion. He willed himself to cry--to scream, to yell back at his mother. Maybe if he did, she would stop telling him things he knew were true. Maybe if he let the dam of sorrow break free, his mother would stop riddling off every insecurity in his mind._

_But no, he couldn't. He shouldn't. It wasn't like his mother was lying._

_"Dad," a voice from the corner of the living room called out._

_Both Kanna and Hakoda turned to the voice. Sokka. Behind him was Katara. Tears streamed down their face as they looked at the adults. Were they scared? How long had they been standing there? How much did they hear?_

_Kanna wordlessly turned to the two children, gesturing them further away from where they stood. She walked towards her grandchildren, gently guiding them down the hallway and towards the staircase. Hakoda watched his children carefully, refusing to take his eyes off of them for one second. The last time he did..._

_"Dad..." Sokka called out to him again, stopping to look back at him._

_Kanna gently pushed the boy along. "Come on, off to bed."_

_Sokka, just around eight years of age, stood his ground and stared at his grandmother. He looked fearful speaking to her, but spoke loud enough for Hakoda to hear._

_"Why did you hit dad?" he asked._

_Kanna was silent. Katara stood just barely behind her brother, staring at her father quietly._

_"Is daddy okay?" she asked._

_Kanna said nothing. She looked back at her son before turning back to her grandchildren. Not another word was exchanged as she led Sokka and Katara to their bedrooms. Hakoda watched as they disappeared out of his sight. Only then did he cast his eyes down to his feet, refusing to look up._

_His children's words ran threw his head._

_He deserved it, didn't he?_

_He failed to protect Kya. He failed to watch over Katara. He nearly failed to shield Sokka._

_He failed. As a husband. As a father. Perhaps even as a son._

_Was he okay? Did he deserve to be okay?_

_His legs felt weak. He felt his knees buckle, letting his weight and gravity sink him to the floor. He tried to stop the first couple of tears that dared overflow from his eyes, but couldn't help it as they rushed down his face in fast increments._

_Hakoda sat on his knees that night, trying to muffle his agonizing screams--biting his hand. He didn't sleep, barely realizing when the sun started to rise._

_I_ _n the morning, when Kanna and his kids woke up, Hakoda quickly showered and made an excuse to his family, saying that work called. He didn't have work that day, but no one needed to know. Not even the silent scoff from his mother made him reconsider his poor excuse. He quickly left the house, not once looking back._

_No one commented on the bloody bandage wrapped tightly around his hand._

He made decisions that he felt were right. He took his kids and left the Southern Pole, feeling that a change in scenery would help them recover. He put Bato in charge of his company, relying on his cousin to take care of what he left behind. He stopped contacting his mother, knowing that she never picked up his calls since the day he moved away from home.

Maybe that's where he fucked up.

Maybe he should have tried keeping contact with his mother. To hell with his reasoning; she was still the grandmother to his children. Maybe if he kept in contact with her, he wouldn't have had to hear from his cousin about his mother's health. 

_Bato stood just outside the train station--a solemn look on his face. Hakoda rushed over to him, pushing past the crowd of people separating them._

_"What's wrong?" Hakoda asked in a frenzy, concern dripping in every word he uttered. "You said it was something bad. What happened?"_

_"It's not about the company," Bato reassured him, still solemn. "I just... I came here because I thought you might've wanted to hear this personally."_

_A moment passed between them. Hakoda looked at Bato, waiting for him to continue. The other man sighed, struggling to come up with the words he wanted to say._ _Bato shook his head, turning away from his cousin._

_"You can tell me," Hakoda urged. "What is it?"_

_Silence. Tension that only the two men could see started to grow. Hakoda wanted to shake Bato by the shoulders, telling him to just spill whatever he had to say. He didn't have to resort to it though, for Bato looked back up at him in sorrow._

_"I'm sorry, 'Koda." Bato's gut twisted as he continued, "It's your mother. She's..."_

Brain tumor. It was a lower grade tumor, and perhaps even removal via surgery, but still...

What had life come to? Had he not lost enough people already? First his wife, and now perhaps his mother--

_Who was next?_

See, Hakoda had been told he was a wonderful father. A prime example--as his mother put it once. A devoted parent--as Kya, and later Bato, called him. The bestest dad in the whole universe--as his kids exclaimed time and time again.

But was he really? He felt as though he was failing. First he took away the mother to his kids. Now their grandmother?

All it took was a phone call. All it took was a simple visit back home. All it took was some form of communication, and maybe then he would have been a better father.

All that was left now was hope. Hope for his mother to get better. Hope that his cousin would be there to take care of it. Hope that his children wouldn't hate him.

With hope being the only thing on the line, there wasn't much he could do now. All he could do was go home at the moment. His kids had school; it would take a while to get permitted leaves. And who knew how long it would take for his mother to recover ( _if she even survived in the first place--_ )? How would his kids cope with the loss? How would he cope?

What could he do?

_"Would you like some tea?" a voice asked him._

_Hakoda looked up, staring into the kind eyes of an old man. He looked at his children--tired and young. They needed food._

_"Yes, please," Hakoda sighed. "And... if it's not too big of an issue, perhaps some refreshments? If you have any, that is..."_

_"Of course!" The kind old man looked at the children before turning back to Hakoda. "Would pastries be a good recommendation? Or are you looking for something filling?"_

_"Anything will do; thank you."_

_"As you wish!"_

_Hakoda watched as the old man left. He looked back at his children, smiling at them. They looked scared, and perhaps even a little nervous. A new city--far from their home--was bound to scare them. The man only wished that he wasn't so surprised by it. Maybe coming to Ba Sing Se was a bad idea. Maybe they should go back home. Maybe--_

_A gentle clank brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up, seeing the old man set cups of tea on the table, as well as slices of cake and a plate of rolls. Hakoda wondered what was in them, or even how they tasted. His stomach grumbled at the sight, causing the old man to laugh._

_"You must be hungry!" he commented._

_"Ah," Hakoda could feel his children staring up at him with wide eyes. He was embarrassed. "...Yes."_

_"Everyone gets hungry. No shame in it." The old man looked at the empty seat across from Hakoda, pointing to it. "Mind if I sit?"_

_"Of course not, please do."_

_"Thank you."_

_Hakoda moved the plates around, setting them more so in front of Katara and Sokka. He gestured to the old man in front of him, asking him if he wanted to eat. The old man shook his head politely, grabbing a plate and pilling it before setting it in front of the other man. Hakoda thanked him, digging into his food._

_Tui and La, he really_ was _hungry._

_He apologized to the old man, telling him that he usually wasn't so impolite. Perhaps he should have insisted that the other man would grab a plate. Perhaps he should have made small talk before digging into his food._

_Instead, the old man dismissed his concerns. "You look like you've had a long day. I don't blame you, young man."_

_"Yes, well..." Should he explain? "My kids and I just got here. To Ba Sing Se, I meant. Our flight landed a little over an hour ago."_

_"How nice! Are you touring?"_

_"No, actually, we're moving here. Our house is still undergoing final touches of furnishings. It'll be done by the evening, but for now, we have no other place to rest."_

_"You're welcome to stay for as long as you need! The Jasmine Dragon is a home to all!" The old man chuckled before recalling, "It must be a coincidence, but a house down my neighborhood was being remodeled for a move-in. Down Cavern Street, and past the schools."_

_"Cavern Street, you say?" Hakoda thought back and realized, "That... It might be us! We're moving to a house on Cavern Street!"_

_"So it is!" The old man chuckled again--a warm sound that filled the air. "We'll be neighbors! Or close to it!"_

_"If it's true, then I'm glad to have met a neighbor!" Hakoda laughed alongside the old man before looking at the food on the table. "I forgot to ask, but how much will this cost? I haven't exchanged currencies yet, so if you could just let me know--"_

_"No worries! For you, it is on the house!"_

_"Please, sir. I can't ask you to do this--"_

_"But you never asked, young man. I want to do this for you!"_

_"I..." A weight heaved off of his shoulders. "Thank you."_

_"It's no problem at all!" A pause. "But if I may ask, and I don't mean to pry, you still seem a little stressed. Is it the move?"_

_"Yes, the move and..." Should he continue? Hakoda looked at his children and focused on the way they were eating. With them occupied--less scared and nervous--he turned to the old man and sighed. He hadn't truly talked about it, but maybe it would do him good. "...And just things. In life. It's a long story."_

_"I have all the time in the world," the old man consoled, a bit humorous. "If you ever need to talk, I'll be more than happy to listen."_

_Hakoda looked at his children one more time. They were busy eating--too busy to pay attention to him. He didn't need to burden them with his troubles._

_So he turned to the old man and unloaded everything. About Kya. About his mother. About the children. About the murderer. About the move. About his company. About his worries as a parent--now single and barely holding up on his end._

_The old man listened, patiently smiling as Hakoda vented. When the man finished talking, he nodded and asked, "May I know your name?"_

_Hakoda was taken back, but answered, "Hakoda. Hakoda Aput."_

_"You know, even the best philosophers of the world say that the human mind is complexly-simple." Iroh reached over to a spare tea cup--one that Hakoda barely noticed was placed on the table. "One cannot focus on too much before the mind breaks itself."_

_"I see..."_

_"Baby steps, Mr. Aput," the old man advised. "Baby steps go a long way. When you focus on the simplest of tasks, you will find yourself with less burden and more motivation."_

_The other man thought about those words. He looked at the old man and smiled._

_Baby steps..._

_"Hakoda," he said. "Please. Call me Hakoda, Mr. ...?"_

_"Well, the good people of Ba Sing Se call me the Dragon of the West! Some call me Uncle, and others refer to me as the best tea maker in this city." The old man took a sip out of his tea cup before settling it down and continuing, "But if I were to call you by your first name, then please, call me Iroh. Iroh Sozin."_

_Hakoda smiled. "Thank you, Iroh."_

Right. Baby steps. One at a time. Step-by-step.

First thing's first: get home. He was already doing that--going five miles over the speed limit. He needed to see his children.

What next? Second step: see Katara and Sokka.

Third step: give them a hug. Maybe even a kiss on the forehead. Tell them that he loved them to the moon and back.

Fourth step: tell them about their grandmother. 

Simple. Easy. He could do this. After step four, he'll think about what to do later. For now, it was just those four things. He could do this. He got this.

As he pulled into his driveway, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Baby steps. He knew what to do. 

Hakoda stepped out of the car, turning off the engine and locking the vehicle. He managed to steady his shaking hands just enough to dig out the key to the front door. Just as he put the key into the lock, his stomach dropped. There was a twist in his gut.

_Something was wrong._

No, no. Nothing was wrong. It was just his home. His children were inside. His friend's niece was inside. They were safe. They were fine.

Right?

Somewhere in his mind, he started to panic again. It didn't feel right, and he didn't know why he suddenly froze just outside his door. Perhaps it was the way the sun was almost tucked under the horizon. Perhaps it was the way the moon wasn't even out that night. Perhaps it was the faint screaming coming from inside.

_Screaming. Why was there screaming? He barely heard it and--_

Hakoda forced his hand to move, swiftly unlocking the front door and pushing himself forward. He stumbled inside; the screaming only got louder. It was panicked, just like his mind and his heart and his gut--

_It was Katara._

_Katara was screaming._

_Just like three years ago--_

He didn't bother to close the front door. The man ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. When his foot slipped slightly, he scrambled up on his hands and knees, pushing himself up and sprinted to his daughter's room. He swung it open with full force, only partially registering that no one was inside.

_Where were they?_

There was more screaming; he followed it without hesitation. It took him to Sokka's room, where he saw his son frozen by the opened door. Hakoda looked into the room, gently gripping the eleven-year-old boy and turning him away--holding him close.

_His son was safe._

His eyes landed on two figures in the room. One of them was Katara--scrunched into a corner of her room and screaming. A panic attack, or was it an anxiety attack? She had always been loud when she had either, but he didn't know which one. He didn't know if there was an immediate cause. Did something happen? He then looked over at the other figure--another girl. Katara's friend. 

Azula. Iroh's niece.

She was sprawled out on the floor, pounding on her chest with a closed fist. Harsh coughs escaped her, and it didn't take long for Hakoda to realize that the girl couldn't breathe. A panic attack.

He had to do something. But what?

_Baby steps._

He turned to his son, rubbing his back. "Sokka?"

Sokka didn't respond. He was shaking.

Hakoda crouched down in front of the boy, placing his hands on his son's shoulders. He gently shook him, getting his attention. Wild, nervous eyes looked back at the man, and he had to steady his voice before speaking--simply because he wanted to scream. He felt like a failure.

"Sokka, hey," Hakoda firmly whispered, "Hey. You with me?"

Sokka nodded. He looked minutes away from crying.

"It's okay. I'm here," Hakoda said. "I need you to do something for me. Can you help me?"

The boy looked back at his father; his bottom lip wobbled as he choked out, "K-Kat... S-She--"

"I know. I'll help her, okay? And Azula. I just need you to do something for me."

"'K-Kay..."

"Go into the kitchen and grab a glass. Fill it with ice cubes." Hakoda reassuringly shook his son once more for emphasis. "Bring it here. Can you do that for me, little man?"

Sokka nodded quickly. The man let him go, watching as the boy ran across the hallway and down the stairs. He then got up from the floor and ran into the room, looking between the two girls. He had to choose which one to go to first. 

_Who...?_

_Baby steps._

Katara was screaming. Azula was having a hard time breathing. Baby steps; check up on Katara and then go to Azula. Hakoda ran to his daughter, taking her into his arms and patting her back. Her screaming got louder.

"Katara, sweetie?" Hakoda shushed her, rhythmically patting her back. "Breathe. In and out. C'mon."

His daughter wailed, gasping out for air. He put her head near his chest--close to his heart. A rhythmic pattern helped with breathing, didn't it? A heartbeat would do good. Hakoda kept his daughter there, too panicked to move, until he heard the sound of footsteps entering the room. In no time, Sokka was by his side with a glass filled with ice cubes.

"Dad..." Sokka pointed to the middle of his room. "A-Azula..."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. He nearly forgot about Azula--_

"Come here," Hakoda instructed, having his son sit in his place and maneuvering his daughter near his lap. "Keep your sister here, okay? Near your heart. Pat her back."

The man took the glass of ice cubes from his son, watching as the boy followed what he was told. He picked up an ice cube and gave it to Sokka.

"Feed her," he said. 

Sokka took the hint, knowing what to do. He held the ice cube and brought it to Katara's mouth, and Hakoda didn't have to completely watch to know that his son was doing the right thing. The man gripped the glass in his hand and rushed over to his friend's niece, crouching in front of her and starting to pat her back.

It only made her cough more.

_That wasn't going to work._

Azula was already darkishly red in the face--already out of breath. He instead did what he was doing to Katara; he moved the girl close to his chest and rested her ear against his heart. He knew it was beating fast, but it was also beating loudly at this point. Rhythmic patterns helped ease someone into breathing, and if his heart was loud enough, then maybe the girl could hear it in her panicked state. 

Azula was still gasping for air when Hakoda placed the glass on the carpeted ground. He took an ice cube and gently pressed it against the girl's lips. The cold made her jump, but it did its job. A cold sensation was easier to spot, and brought most (if not all) focus to it.

_Baby steps: focus and breathe._

"Hey, Azula," Hakoda whispered, trying not to startle the girl. "Azula, can you breathe?"

No answer. Just coughing and gasping.

"I have an ice cube," he continued. "I'm going to put it in your mouth. Is that okay?"

No answer. Did he really expect one at this point?

He slowly pushed the ice cube past her lips, rubbing circles on her back. The girl's face contorted into shock, and she spit out the ice cube and started to cough again.

_No problem. This was expected. Katara did this the first few times too._

Hakoda reached for another ice cube, placing it on Azula's lips again. 

"It's just an ice cube, okay?" He tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. "Can you try chewing on it for me?"

Somehow, he got a response this time. It was a croaky voice--a subtle whine.

But Azula had heard him this time. He didn't know if she understood what he was telling her, but she heard. That was good. This was progress.

He slowly pushed the second ice cube into her mouth, watching as she kept it in longer than the first time before spitting it out. Hakoda grabbed a third ice cube.

"You're doing great," he reassured, pressing the third ice cube against her lips. "Try again. Try chewing it."

Azula heard him. He knew she heard him. When he pushed the third ice cube into her mouth, she didn't spit it out. Her coughing ceased by the second ice cube, but a few moments with the third ice cube made her breathing a little more even. Somewhere along the line, he heard the sound of teeth crunching on ice. 

Hakoda grabbed a fourth ice cube. He gently placed it into the girl's shaking palm, closing her fingers around it. He knew it was unbearably cold, but he kept her fingers closed around the ice cube for ten seconds before switching to her other palm and repeating. By the time Azula had finished chewing the ice cube in her mouth, the fourth cube had nearly melted in her palms.

But she was calmer now. Out of her panicked state.

_Baby steps: progress._

"You did good," Hakoda congratulated. "I'm going to give you another ice cube. Chew one more; that's all, okay?"

No answer. The man reached inside the glass, pulling out a fifth ice cube and pushing it past the girl's lips. Shaky breaths sounded, as well as the clanking of ice hitting teeth. 

But Azula was calmer. She was breathing now. She was fine.

_He had to call Iroh. He had to tell him what happened._

Hakoda looked behind him, staring into the corner. He didn't realize when his daughter stopped screaming, but he saw his son holding her. They were rocking back and forth, and if he strained his ears enough, he could hear the sound of Sokka talking to Katara in hushed whispers. 

He turned back to the girl in his arms, listening to the way she was chewing on the ice. He gently wiped her palms, ridding her of the melted remains of the fourth ice cube. For a moment, he felt as though he was holding Katara. This scene was just so familiar--every night of his daughter waking up from nightmares, simply because he couldn't shield her from her mother's mangled corpse. 

It bothered Hakoda how familiar everything felt. He felt like he failed as a parent all over again--only with a child that wasn't even his.

But Azula was still a child. Children shouldn't have panic attacks; no one should, but _definitely_ not children. 

In that moment, looking at the girl in his arms, he saw a child.

As a father, his heart sank.

He didn't know much about her parents. Iroh hadn't told him yet, but he knew the girl's parents were dead. He wondered how Azula's father would have reacted. He was sure the girl's father would have done a better job than him. He knew he wasn't the best father.

He could only apologize to the girl's dead father for his incompetence.

_Suitcases in hand, Hakoda watched as his children bid their grandmother goodbye. They were moving; they were leaving their home. Ba Sing Se offered to provide them temporary accommodations as they searched for their own home. The police verified that Kya's murderer was most likely a citizen of the Fire Nation. There was no way he would find them in the Earth Kingdom._

_Things would be safer now. His family would be safer._

_"Gran-Gran, will you come visit us?" It was Sokka who asked that question._

_Kanna looked right at Hakoda. The man stared back at his mother, watching as her smile visibly dipped as she made eye-contact with him. He looked away, staring at the suitcases in his hands._

_"I'm afraid not," he heard his mother say. "Your Gran-Gran is a little too old to be traveling too far from home."_

_Sokka groaned. "But who'll take care of you?"_

_"'Tis I," Bato announced, startling Hakoda as he came up from behind. "Your favorite uncle will care for your favorite Gran-Gran."_

_"You're not my favorite uncle," Sokka pouted._

_"Sucks to suck, little man. I'm the only uncle you have."_

_"I'm not little!"_

_Bato waved off the child dismissively, standing by Hakoda's side. He rested a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Hakoda shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, straightening his back and staring ahead at particularly nothing. He knew Bato was disappointed--and maybe a bit concerned--but he didn't want to deal with it yet._

_He didn't want to deal with his emotions at all, preferably._

_"Let me know if you ever need any help," Bato said. "I'm here for you."_

_No response._

_"You're still the founder of Southern Waters," Bato continued, trying to joke. "Just because you put me in charge, it doesn't mean you slack off at your end."_

_"I know," Hakoda reassured, feeling the corners of his mouth turn upward. "Let me know if you need any help."_

_"I got you."_

_The two men watched Kanna interact with her grandchildren, silently listening to all that the children had to say to her. Moments passed in silence before Bato turned to Hakoda._

_"It's not your fault," he said in a low voice._

_"Don't..." Hakoda's voice was pained._

_"Whatever happened isn't your fault, 'Koda."_

_"Shut up."_

_"No." Bato turned to watch his cousin's children. His eyes landed on his aunt. "Your mother was wrong."_

_"My--" Hakoda stopped as his voice cracked, swallowing the lump in his throat. "She's not..."_

_"She's not what?" Silence. "She's grieving, sure. But she's wrong. This wasn't your fault. If you want someone to blame, don't blame yourself. Blame that murderer."_

_If Bato saw tears in his cousin's eyes, he didn't comment. Instead, he rested his hand on the other man's shoulder; this time, he wasn't pushed away. They stayed like that for a while, only for Hakoda to clear his throat._

_"Take care of her," he requested. "Please."_

_Bato nodded. "I will. I promise."_

_"Don't boss anyone around just because I put you in charge of Southern Waters."_

_"You think so lowly of me. I'm wounded."_

_"Of course I do. You're a nuisance ninety percent of the time."_

_"L-O-L. Uno reverse on you, good sir."_

_"Bato, please--"_

_The two men shared a laugh. Hakoda set down one of the suitcases in his hand and wiped at his eyes, sniffling a bit to clear his senses. He then dug through his pocket, handing Bato his car keys before calling out to his children._

_"Come on, kids!" He grabbed the suitcase he put down, nodding towards the door. "We'll miss our flight!"_

_A chorus of "Okay!" sounded as the two children hugged their grandmother goodbye and ran towards the front door._

_Hakoda turned to his cousin. "Get them in the car for me?"_

_"Of course." Bato nodded, securly holding the car keys given to him._

_Hakoda watched as his children followed Bato, getting into the car and buckling in. He took one last look at Kanna before turning to the door. This was goodbye. As he started walking out of the door, he heard his mother's voice._

_"A good father protects his family."_

_Hakoda wanted to walk away. He didn't need a lecture now--not again. He was tired, and as much as he believed every word his mother spoke, he didn't want to bawl his eyes out on the way to the airport. He willed his legs to move, but they froze._

_He waited. A part of him wanted his mother to continue. He wanted to be told that it was his fault; he wanted someone to blame. Hakoda waited, stuck in his place with his arms growing heavy._

_Moments of silence passed as nothing was said. Was that it? Was his mother just going to tell him those six words? A good father protects his family, huh? Was she telling him that he failed to do the one thing required of him?_

_Hakoda shook his head, mentally exhausted. He sighed and started walking again. This was it. That was all._

_Or so he thought, when he heard her voice again. It made him stop for a split second. He wanted to turn around--look at his mother one more time. He wanted to ask what she meant. Deep down, he knew exactly what she said; he just wanted to confirm one last time._

_But he didn't._

_He kept walking. He loaded the suitcases in the truck of his car and grabbed the car keys from Bato, telling his cousin to take care. He made sure his children were buckled in and had everything they needed before getting in the car and starting the engine. He bid his cousin goodbye one last time--at least for now--and drove off, heading straight to the airport._

_He thought back to the last words his mother told him. Back when he turned and left the home he started his family in. Back when he refused to look at his mother for the (possibly) last time. He heard her loud and clear, even if her voice seemed hesitant and distant._

_"You are the prime example."_

*********

When Azula came to, she found herself sitting beside Katara's father. His arms steadied her, and for that she was grateful--having felt like she was about to collapse. Her head felt fuzzy, and it hurt too much. The lights on the ceiling were too bright; the ground was too carpeted and cold. 

_What happened?_

"Azula," she heard, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Horrible. Her head hurt even more than before. She tried to speak, but she couldn't find the energy to open her mouth. Her tongue was numb-- _why was it numb?_ \--and there was the phantom feeling of cold ice.

"Can you breathe better now?" she heard him ask again.

How should she reply? Was she breathing? Of course. Still a little shaky, but she could breathe. Why couldn't she breathe before?

"I'm going to call your uncle, is that alright?" She felt herself being shifted in her friend's father's arms, but it still felt comfortable--like how her mother would hold her. "I'm going to move you to Katara, okay?"

She didn't reply. Was Katara here? Where was she? She couldn't see her.

Azula stayed silent as she felt herself being lifted off the ground. She knew she should be surprised, but there wasn't any energy left in her. Where had it all gone? Come to think of it: it had been a long time since she was carried by someone--carried by a parent. Was this normal for Katara? What about for Sokka? Did their father do this normally?

Would her own father ever do this? 

_Ha, no. Never. She should probably hate him for it, right?_

_No energy..._

When she was set back down on the ground, she felt herself being leaned against something. It was a wall, wasn't it? She knew there was someone to her right--settled in the corner of the room. She heard their voices--their whispers.

_Sokka._

So that meant Katara was with him, right? Why else would he be whispering? Who else would he whisper to?

If Azula turned her head, maybe she could see him. Maybe she would see Katara. She felt alone; she needed to see someone. Ahead of her was just another wall, and she saw Mr. Aput leave as quickly as he settled her against the wall. The ground felt colder than before, and the wall was hard against her back.

She should turn and look at them. 

_She should..._

No, it was embarrassing. Who lost composure in someone's house? This wasn't even her uncle's home; this was a stranger's home. For a second, she wanted to correct her mind. This wasn't a stranger's home; this was Katara's home. Katara was her friend, right?

But maybe she wasn't. Maybe after today--after the commotion Azula caused--Katara wouldn't want to be her friend anymore.

So no, she shouldn't look. She's not allowed to.

Instead, she looked ahead and asked in a hoarse voice, "...Are you mad?"

It made her wince. Her throat felt as though it hadn't been used, or as though she had screamed herself into an oblivion. It hurt to talk, but she needed to know. 

There wasn't an answer for a long time. 

They were mad, weren't they?

*********

_"...Are you mad?"_

Sokka didn't know how to answer that question. He stopped whispering to Katara--stopped talking about random trivia. It helped her when she was coming down from a panic attack; a distraction of random things to fill her brain. Sokka had enough trivia to go around, and he didn't mind learning more just for his sister.

But this? How was he supposed to answer? Azula wasn't his sister, and as smart as he considered himself to be, he didn't know what type of answer she was looking for. 

He turned to his sister, seeing as how her attention was focused on Azula now. Katara looked up at him, still leaning against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

And a while she spoke. "Why would we be mad?"

Her voice was just as hoarse as Azula's, but that was expected. Katara was screaming. Azula couldn't breathe. It made sense that their voices were hoarse.

But it still concerned Sokka. Should he leave and get them water? Would water help? As far as he knew, they just ate ice. Ice was water, wasn't it? Shouldn't that have helped them?

It startled him out of his thoughts when Azula spoke again.

"I fell asleep." Her voice was still so hoarse. "I wasted the whole day sleeping."

Was that really the reason? Was there something more? 

"It's okay to sleep," he said, whispering just loud enough for it to be personal. "Would you be mad if we came to your house and fell asleep?"

There wasn't a reason to be mad, was there? 

But Sokka thought back to the time he had to see a therapist. Katara had to go more than he did, but he remembered sitting with her when she felt too anxious to go alone. That therapist said something about redirecting-- _whatever that meant_ \--and blaming yourself. It was always about their mother's death, but there was no way Katara was over that trauma.

Was Azula blaming herself? Was there trauma?

_There was something more..._

"No," Azula said. She looked tired.

Sokka felt Katara straightening herself from his arms, slowly sitting up on her own. He was still close by in case she needed him, but she was no longer leaning against him. This was fine. She was fine--for the most part, at least. 

"Then why would I be mad?" Katara asked; her voice was a little better this time around. "We're best friends! We're allowed to sleep at each other's house."

It seemed to have shocked Azula. The Fire Nation girl looked at them. Her eyes portrayed confusion.

Azula almost stuttered as she clarified, "... _Best_ friends?"

Katara grew insecure and backtracked, "If that's okay--"

"Really?" Azula interrupted, still a bit confused. "I just... I thought you wouldn't want to be friends with me."

"Nope! Best friends!" Katara was happy now. "You're stuck with me for the rest of your life!"

There was a moment of nothingness. Sokka felt as though he didn't have a place in the room--or even in the conversation that was happening. 

But he stayed. And watched. And listened.

"I'd like that," Azula said, smiling a bit.

The confusion in her eyes was gone. She closed them, resting against the wall she was leaned on. There was silence again, and Katara slid back into Sokka's arms. He didn't mind, but he didn't like the silence. The comforting part he could handle; the silence was too overbearing. He had to break it somehow.

"We built a fort," he blurted out. "In Katara's room. Do you want to go there?"

He saw Azula open her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. Was she considering it?

She shook her head. "My uncle might come."

"Really?"

A nod. "Your dad is calling my uncle."

"Oh."

"Why did you build a fort?"

"Just thought you might like it." A pause. "Katara and I thought it would make you feel better..."

"...Feel better?"

"You were shaky," Katara explained, barely whispering. "We thought that maybe you had a bad day. Or you were scared or something. Just thought a pillow fort would make you feel better."

"A pillow fort?" Azula repeated, seeming a bit fascinated.

"We can still go to Katara's room if you want," Sokka said. "Or at least until your uncle comes. We can watch a penguin movie!"

"Documentary, Sokka," Katara corrected. 

"Movie."

"Documentary."

"Movie!"

"Ugh, you're so loud..."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

Before Sokka could retaliate, he heard a laugh. It was airy, as well as a bit snorty. He turned just enough to see Azula laughing at them. Why was she laughing at them? He felt a bit offended.

But then he heard Katara laugh. 

And in turn, he started laughing.

It was funny, wasn't it? The energy in the room shifted; it became lighter. More relaxed. It was nice.

In hindsight, _Mission: Less Shaky, More Wakey_ was a near success, even if it didn't go according to plan.

Then again, what exactly was the plan?

*********

Hakoda rushed down the stairs, trying to find his phone. He must have dropped it somewhere as he was running. 

_Where was it?_

As he reached the bottom of the staircase, his eyes landed on the front door. The man cursed internally, berating himself for leaving the door open. Someone could have walked in. Things could have been stolen. How could he be so careless?

Then again, this was a pretty safe neighborhood. The crime rate was nearly zero percent.

_But so was his last home--where Kya was murdered._

He shook his head and walked to the front door. His keys were still in the lock, and he sighed to himself as he took them out of the door. As he closed and locked the door, securing the entrance, he wondered if he needed to get the lock changed. What if someone made a copy of his keys, only to put them back in the lock? Would there be a break-in?

_Yeah, he needed to get the locks changed. Just in case. First thing in the morning._

He set his keys by the hooks in the door. The man then scanned the downstairs area, looking for his phone. He traced his steps, only to see his device laying face-down at the bottom of the staircase. Hakoda ran to his phone, picking it up while praying.

_Please don't be cracked. Please don't be cracked. Please don't be cracked--_

He flipped it over face-up, cursing when he saw a very visible crack on his screen. Just his luck; he'd have to get it repaired soon. Not that it wasn't usable, but still...

Hakoda unlocked his phone and immediately dialed Iroh's number. Placing the phone next to his ear, he heard the line going through as he searched his house. Just because it looked like there wasn't a break-in, it didn't mean that someone could be inside. His eyes scanned the living room, and he headed into the kitchen to do a thorough scan. Perhaps he should check the security cameras--

 _"Hello?"_ said the voice on the other line.

"Iroh!" Right, he needed to tell him. "I just wanted to... It's Azula."

_"What happened? Is there any trouble?"_

"She had a panic attack."

*********

Iroh's mind went static as the words repeated over and over again. He barely registered Hakoda apologizing to him ( _what for?_ ). His thoughts raced for an explanation.

_Azula had a panic attack._

_Azula was in trouble and_ _needed help._

_What for?_

_What could he do?_

He needed to get her home. Home was safe. Did she want to come home? Did something happen in the Aput household?

No, no. That was unlikely.

But not impossible.

She needed to come home. 

_"Iroh?"_ Hakoda's voice on the other line broke his train of thought. _"Iroh, are you listening?"_

"Yes," he responded. "Sorry... Actually, could you repeat what you said?"

_"Do you want Azula home? I can drop her off--"_

"I'll come get her!" Iroh interrupted. "Is she okay? What caused it? What happened? Is she with you?"

_"I believe she's fine now. She's with Katara and Sokka. She stopped breathing. I gave her ice to help. I don't know what happened; I'm sorry..."_

"I'm coming! Can you stay with her? Please, I--"

_"I'll be here, Iroh. Please, trust me. I'm sorry for--"_

"It's not your fault." Because it wasn't, and Iroh wholeheartedly believed that. "I'm coming to get her."

Iroh didn't wait for a response. He pulled his phone away from his face and ended the call. His mind was back to racing as he went to the front door and grabbed his shoes. Times like this made him wish he had a car. Should he call a cab? Maybe he could run and get there quicker. Sure, he hadn't run in a while, but that didn't mean he lost stamina over the years. 

He may be in his fifties, but he could race a cheetah if he wanted to. He might not win the race, but it didn't hurt to come in second place.

He grabbed his keys and unlocked the front door before he stopped. The sound of running water brought him back to reality, and only then did he remember Zuko.

_Zuko's in the shower. He wouldn't realize that Iroh was gone._

True, but that meant leaving the boy alone. His heart didn't have it in him.

Should he bring Zuko with him?

_But that would mean waiting for the boy to finish showering. And Azula needed him right now._

Iroh could run. He could get Azula and come home. That would take about thirty to forty minutes.

_Too long..._

_But Zuko just started showering._

Forget it. Too much thinking. He just had to go.

Without another thought, Iroh pushed open the front door and locked it behind him, setting out on his run. Adrenaline pumped in his veins as he went. He needed to get to Azula, and then get back home with Azula to Zuko. It was nearly late evening, and the rays of the sun barely lit up the pathway. He made do with the streetlights though, huffing as he neared his destination.

He needed to get to Azula. Quickly.

*********

Sokka left the two girls, saying that he needed to go to Katara's room. The reason for why was lost between Katara and Azula, but they watched as the boy left. They were leaned against a wall--tired and left with no energy. Katara summoned enough willpower to look at the other girl, and slowly inched her way towards Azula. She rested her head against the other girl's shoulder, closing her eyes and relaxing.

In a quiet voice, she asked, "Are you okay?"

Azula looked back at Katara and nodded. "Are you?"

Katara nodded back. "Why did you panic?"

"I don't know," Azula admitted. "What about you?"

"Freaked out..." There was a slight silence--as awkward as can be--before the Water Tribe girl spoke up again. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't like feeling out of control. I guess I panicked."

"Do you get panic attacks a lot?"

"They happen less often now..." Katara hesitated before adding, "...It happened a lot when my mom died."

"Three years ago?" Azula asked. When Katara turned to look at her, conveying through her eyes the question of how the other girl knew, Azula shrugged, "The court case. I remember the lawyer person said something about three years."

"Yeah, three years ago," Katara nodded. "On my birthday."

"Mine too." The Water Tribe girl looked at her friend in confusion, and then realization. Azula looked away and whispered, "My mom. On my birthday. November first."

They sat in silence, leaned against each other. Had they just admitted something so personal? Azula didn't think too much before talking about her mother, but now she regret it. The image of her mother on the floor--bleeding out as her father stood over the dead body--imprinted into her mind.

Yet, she couldn't seem to remember too much. It was only an image, but if she thought too hard, it kept blurring in her mind. A part of her didn't even think it was real. How could it be real?

But it was. And it happened. And maybe Katara didn't even want to know. Maybe Katara thought it was--

Azula felt a hand enclose her own. She looked down, staring at her right hand, and noticed Katara's left hand wrapped around her. A gentle squeeze brought attention away from her thoughts of regret, and for a split second, Azula saw Zuko's hand replacing Katara's. 

Holding hands. Squeezing in comfort. Did Katara do that with Sokka too? Zuko did that with Azula a lot, and their mother taught them that. Did Katara's mom teach her?

So this meant Katara wasn't mad, right?

She was comforting her, wasn't she?

Azula squeezed her hand back, just as gentle. A part of her wanted to keep talking, and another part of her wanted to sit in silence.

She chose the former option. "When's your birthday?" 

Katara was silent, seemingly counting in her head before answering, "In three days."

"Are you going to celebrate it?" When Katara shook her head, Azula asked, "Why not?"

"It doesn't feel right, you know? I haven't celebrated it for the other two years. What's one more year?" A pause. "Do you celebrate your birthday?"

"When my mom died, it was just me and Zuzu." The Fire Nation girl thought about her words carefully, thinking back to her time in Fire Fountain City. "He always got me something, even if it wasn't that big. Before my mom died, she would love to celebrate my birthday. She always made me my favorite desserts."

Azula felt another squeeze on her hand, and she laughed. Because it felt so ridiculous. And she wanted to cry. 

"I guess I never really celebrated it myself, huh?" Azula blinked away her tears. "It was always my brother. Or my mom. Or my friends back in the Fire Nation. They really liked it, so I guess I learned to deal with that attention."

"You don't like your birthday?" Katara asked. Her voice was soft and just as careful. 

"It's not that I don't like it." The Fire Nation girl stopped, thinking hard before whispering, "My dad never really remembered my birthday. I got used to expecting nothing from him."

"Why would your dad forget your birthday?"

It was true. Her father thought her birthday was the day Zuko was born. He always told her that she was born lucky, but if he couldn't even remember the day of her birth, was she really born that lucky? It seemed so-- _what was the word?_ \--hypocritical. 

Did Katara's father remember her birthday? He must, shouldn't he? He seemed nice enough.

"My mom liked celebrating my birthday," Katara said, seeming to read her mind as she continued, "So did my dad. Sokka always tried to blow out my candles, but even he liked it when my birthday came."

"And you don't celebrate it anymore?" 

"Nope." The girl popped the 'p' in disdain. "My mom's not here. Might as well stop."

"That's not true..." Azula felt Katara glare at her. She started to backtrack. "I mean, sorry--"

"She's dead, Azula."

"That does mean she's not with you," the Fire Nation girl defended. "I used to think that. But then..."

_Azula awoke from a nightmare, startling up from her bed. She let out a scream, and then a wail, before she felt someone's hand covering her mouth. Her own hand pawed around for the culprit, only to see her brother sit with her and tell her to be quieter._

_"Papa will hear," Zuko whispered, keeping his hand firmly on his sister's face._

_Azula--having just turned six a week ago--cried into her brother's hand. She kept pawing around the thin mattress, trying to find the one person she wanted at the moment. When her muffled mailing went quiet, turning into light sobs, Zuko removed his hand carefully from the girl's face._

_"I-I want--" She was shushed, but sobbed out carelessly, "M-Mama!"_

_Zuko sighed, looking at his closed bedroom door. He wondered if their father had heard. He wondered if their father was awake._

_Beside him, Azula was sobbing. She looked around the room, halting her pawing. It was clear their mother wasn't in bed with them, but it didn't stop her from wondering where she was. Only when realization dawned on her--about what happened a week ago--did she stop and breakdown._

_"Sh-She's gone!" she kept wailing. Their mother was gone and never coming back._

_"She's not gone," Zuko whispered, patting Azula's undone and tangled hair._

_"She's gone!" Azula yelled. Her young and tired mind was frustrated. "You saw her! Papa made her bleed!"_

_"Mama's not gone--"_

_"Then where is she?! I want her! I want her now!"_

_Azula kept wailing, demanding her mother. Zuko knew that if they continued their quarreling, nothing good would come as an end result. Their father would wake up, question why Azula was in Zuko's room, and bring about a punishment that he saw fit. There was no stopping it, unless..._

_"She's not gone, silly," the boy whispered. "Mama's still with us."_

_It seemed to quiet Azula down just enough. She started looking around the dark bedroom hopefully, wiping at her eyes to see better._

_"Not there. She's in here," Zuko said, pointing to Azula's chest, right above her heart. He moved his hand to tap on her forehead. "And in here."_

_The girl watched her brother's hand, placing her own hand above her heart. Was it true?_

_In memory and in a warm heart. Was their mother really still here?_

_"Just because papa made her go away..." Zuko explained, moving his hand from Azula's forehead, "It doesn't mean she's gone forever. She's still our mama."_

_Azula stayed in her spot, wondering. It sounded about right. It sounded genuine. There was no way her mother would leave her, right? She was just here; her mother was still with her--just not physically. Her mother was present in memory. Her mother was present in her heart._

_"Do you want me to tell you a story?" Zuko asked, patting the spot where Azula laid--telling her to lie down and sleep. "The way mama did?"_

_"C-Can you..." It sounded like a great idea to the six-year-old. "A-About the story... Th-The one with th-the baby dragon and the p-prince?"_

_Zuko nodded, and Azula laid back down. She listened to every word in the story, and eventually--in her tired mind--she heard her mother's voice. In hindsight, it was probably just her brother, lulling her back to sleep._

_But when sleep came to her, Azula held onto the hope that her mother was still by her side._

Katara stopped glaring, turning away from Azula. It made sense. Was she right?

She touched her necklace with her free hand, feeling the stone carvings with her fingertips. Even if her mother had died, it didn't mean she was gone. Her mother lived on in memory and in her heart, as well as the necklace that adorned her. If her memory lived on, then her mother lived on. If that was the case, what would her mother have wanted?

Katara took her hand off her necklace. "If I have a birthday party, will you come?"

Azula squeezed the hand she was still holding. "Only if you invite me."

"I'm inviting you."

"Then I'll come." A pause. "Can Zuzu come? And my uncle?"

"Yeah, they're invited." Katara squeezed back, welcoming the comfortable silence that came. It didn't last long, for she turned and asked, "Why do you call him Zuzu? You said your brother's name was Zuko..."

"I used to call him that when I was younger." Azula started to fidget in place, feeling a bit embarrassed. "My mom thought it was cute. I guess I want to keep the habit."

Katara nodded at the response. "I used to call my brother Sock."

"Why?"

"Because he looks and smells like one." Both girls laughed. When they came down from their high, the Water Tribe girl explained, "I used to get away with it when I was little. But now he hits me. And he calls me Cat."

"Cats are cool."

"Eh," Katara shrugged. "I like dogs better."

"That's weird."

"Cat people are weird."

"I'm not--"

They were interrupted by the sound of harsh pounding. The two girls looked at each other in worry, leaning closer into each other.

Someone was at the front door. 

*********

Iroh pounded on the front door of the Aput household. It wasn't long before Hakoda opened the door, quickly letting the older man inside. He pointed up the staircase, explaining that Azula was with Katara and Sokka. Iroh ran up the stairs, nearly out of breath but not willing to stop. He needed to get to Azula. 

Hakoda ran behind the other man, pointing out which room to go into. The two found themselves in Sokka's room in mere seconds. Hakoda stood by as Iroh ran inside.

"Azula!" Iroh crouched in front of the girl, taking in her appearance. "Niece, are you alright?"

Azula nodded sluggishly. She looked tired.

"Hello, Uncle Dragon," Katara greeted, seeming a bit tired herself.

"Hello, Katara," Iroh greeted back with a warm smile. He turned back to his niece and repeated himself, asking if she was alright. 

"I'm okay," the girl said. "Just tired. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, my niece," the uncle reassured. "I'm sure you've been through a lot."

He opened his arms, watching as the girl slowly reached out and fell into them. Iroh cradled his niece close, not wanting to let go.

_She was safe._

_She was okay._

"Let's get you home, shall we?" Iroh patted the girl's back. "Can you walk?"

Azula felt weak. She didn't think she could walk. The girl shook her head.

"Is it alright if I carry you then?" Iroh asked.

"What about the sleepover?" Azula looked behind her, over at Katara. "We were supposed to have a sleepover."

"It's okay if you don't feel well," Katara reassured. "You can go home."

"But will you be mad?"

"I won't be mad."

"Promise?"

"Azula, if you don't feel well, you don't have to stay," Hakoda interjected. "You can always reschedule your sleepover. I'm sure Katara will like that."

Azula considered the offer. She saw Katara nod at her father's words, offering a small smile. She smiled back, turning to her uncle and nodding.

Everyone was tired. Everyone needed rest.

Iroh secured his niece in his arms before lifting her. He turned and bid Hakoda a farewell, hearing his niece do the same to her friend. Tightening his hold on the girl--making sure that she wouldn't fall--Iroh walked out of the bedroom and steadily set out on a journey back home.

*********

The walk back home wasn't all that eventful. Iroh picked up his pace only subtly, not wanting to startle his niece. He used the streetlights to guide himself through the darkness. It had just been past seven in the evening; it shouldn't be this dark in the midst of September.

Then again, the sun went down much earlier when the autumn-ish winters approached. This was only expected.

As they walked, Iroh thought about the phone call. He glanced over at his niece, seeing as how she was watching behind him. Was she watching the streetlights?

"Mr. Aput said you had a panic attack today," Iroh brought up.

He felt Azula turn her head, knowing she was looking at him. "I did?"

"Did you?" he asked. He continued, explaining, "He said you couldn't breathe."

The girl nodded. "Is that a panic attack?"

"Could be." Had she not realized what it was? Then again, she was young. "Was there something on your mind, niece?"

No answer. Perhaps she didn't want to talk about it. Not yet, at least.

Iroh picked up his pace, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Zuko was still at home. Zuko needed him too.

He bounced his niece in his arms, feeling her slip in his hold. It concerned him how light she was. Was this Ozai's doing? It had barely been a month since the children came to live with him; things took time to change. He'd have to see what a normal weight for children their ages entailed--perhaps take them to a doctor and figure it out. Iroh wanted his niece and nephew healthy and well.

The man glanced at Azula again, noticing how she kept looking behind him. Was she fascinated by the streetlights? He was sure that Fire Fountain City had streetlights of their own. Was this her first time being outside in the dark?

Perhaps she was just tired. He could see her eyes droop little by little.

_Yeah, she was probably just tired._

*********

Azula looked behind her uncle, watching his shadow. She pulled one hand over his back, reaching out just enough to make small shadow puppets. The streetlights above burned just bright enough to make the shadows clear. She remembered her mother showing her how to make animals under the moonlight in her room.

A dog.

A bunny.

A butterfly--though it was pretty hard to do with just one hand.

It was always funny when Zuko tried to do shadow puppets; he never got the hang of it. She remembered how her mother would laugh and gently correct his hands, all while praising Azula for her newfound talent. Shadow puppets came easy for the girl, but she found herself practicing them less and less after her mother died.

But there she was now--being carried home by her uncle and secretly doing shadow puppets behind his back. It was fun. 

She thought about what he asked her: was something was on her mind? That question was tricky.

What exactly spiraled her thoughts today? She was perfectly fine in the morning. And she was completely fine when she arrived to the Aput household. 

Was it Sokka's comment about homework? Was that it? That had to be it, right?

What if Sokka was Zuko? What would have happened if Zuko said he didn't want to do homework? Was that allowed? Was that excusable? 

Azula could only imagine how that would play out. If they were back at _home,_ their father would have hurt Zuko. Ozai would have told her brother that he wasn't allowed to say whether or not he wanted to do homework. Katara told her that their father was nice, and even Azula could admit that the man was nice for helping her out of her panic attack, so maybe Mr. Aput wouldn't hurt Sokka.

But what would have happened if Sokka said that in front of his father? Would it have been a bad reaction?

_She'd only ever seen bad reactions._

So what really happened? Was she nervous because she didn't know how Sokka would take it? Was she nervous that he would have pushed her away? Was she nervous that Sokka would have thought she was calling him dumb over not wanting to read a book?

Or was she nervous because she didn't want her friend's older brother to get hurt?

_Why was she nervous?_

She put her hand down, ceasing her little puppet of a howling wolf. Maybe she shouldn't have been so anxious today; it wouldn't have ruined the sleepover. 

In her guilt, she looked up again. The streetlights were pretty; she barely saw them before. Back at home with her father, she wasn't allowed to go out into the evening. She had to be home by nightfall. The one time she stayed over at Mai's house, the two girls snuck out and saw the streetlights only once before they were ushered back home by the housekeepers. 

The streetlights were pretty. They were bright and caught her attention. Her eyes followed the lamps, and then followed the poles attached to them. She observed the metal poles, wanting to touch them--wondering if they were cold to the touch, or even just smooth. Her eyes followed the lamps and poles until she reached the ground, and she looked up--watching every lamp until she saw something in the corner of her eye. 

There it was again: a shadow. It startled her; Azula hoped that she could've ignored it. She noticed it following her from the moment she left her friend's house, thinking it was a tree. But it was still there, hiding behind every streetlight. Was it someone she knew--a friend of her uncle? Azula didn't want to be scared of it; she had just gotten over her fear of going outside. It took a long time to realize that Zhao and Sergeant Jet wouldn't be everywhere, but she doubted that her brother was over his own fear.

The shadow looked familiar. It brought a tiny inkling of fear.

"Uncle Iroh?" she whispered, not wanting to speak too loudly.

"Yes, my niece?"

"Is Sergeant Jet coming back?"

Azula felt her uncle tighten his hold on her. She tightly held the back of his shirt, watching the shadow. It kept coming closer, and a part of her mind wanted to believe that it was just a tree.

"The sergeant died," Iroh whispered. "In a train crash."

Azula kept watching the shadow. "So he's not coming back?"

"Never."

Azula wondered if Zuko knew about the train crash. She'd have to ask him some other time.

"It was on the news," Iroh explained, seemingly reading her mind. "I believe the first sleepover you had with Katara--there was a train crash. The sergeant was one of the people that died. Your brother and I saw it on the news. He's not coming back; I promise."

Ah, so that explained it. "And Zhao? Is he coming back?"

The shadow stopped moving.

"My guess is that man was on the train as well," Iroh whispered. "I'm sure he won't come back."

Azula watched the shadow closer. It stayed in its spot for a while, only to start moving again. It was faster now, coming closer much quicker than before.

"A-And..." The girl's mind raced. "What if he comes back?"

Iroh laughed humorlessly. "I'd like to see him try."

The shadow stopped in its tracks. Azula stopped blinking, watching it closely. It seemed as though the shadow was staring at her. 

"U-Uncle..." She tugged on Iroh's collar, getting his attention. "B-Behind...?"

Iroh stopped, quickly turning to look back. Azula kept her eyes on the shadow, watching it--resisting the urge to blink. If she blinked, would it disappear? Would it run towards her? She didn't want to find out.

"Who's there?" her uncle called out.

She felt him tighten her hold on her. Azula gulped, feeling the need to blink. She watched the frozen shadow; her heart raced.

"Show yourself," Iroh called out again.

The shadow seemed to stare at Azula more. Azula stared back, trying to figure out what it was. A sudden chill made her shiver, and she couldn't stop herself from blinking. The girl quickly opened her eyes and looked back at where she was staring.

It disappeared.

" _Gone_..." she whispered, more to herself.

"What's gone?" Iroh asked.

Azula didn't answer.

Iroh sighed. "Let's get you home, shall we?" 

The girl felt her uncle turn and start walking again. His pace was much quicker this time, but she kept looking back. There wasn't a shadow anymore. Were her eyes just playing tricks on her?

Maybe it was just a tree. 

*********

Hakoda carried Katara to her room upon her request. He asked her if she was alright--if she needed more ice, or perhaps some food. Katara had half a mind to ask for ice cream, or even just a bunch of chocolate, but she knew her father wouldn't go along with it.

It worked the first few times, up until it was mentioned to the child therapist she started seeing. If only that therapist didn't mention 'healthy coping habits' after panic attacks, then Katara would still be eating all the sweets in the world. Not to be fooled--she _did_ understand that she shouldn't be eating too much sugar, but come on...

"May I have some fruits?" she asked.

"Of course," Hakoda said. "I'll bring it to your room. Would you like some dinner later?"

Katara nodded. She didn't realize just how hungry she was until her stomach growled at the mention of dinner. She found herself carried in her room, spotting the pillow fort her and Sokka put together. Sokka was sitting inside, huddling over a stuffed penguin and watching a computer screen.

"Sokka," Hakoda called out, getting his son's attention, "I brought your sister here."

Sokka wordlessly patted the spot next to him, scooting over just a bit. He watched as his father set Katara down next to him, asking if she was alright. The boy noticed how his sister was pressing down on her legs, wondering if they hurt. If he's noticed anything over the years, it was that Katara usually went weak after a panic attack. Sometimes it was her head; other times it was her stomach. Most times it was her legs and arms.

He always worried about it--if it was permanent or just temporary. He wondered how long her legs would hurt; the longest it's ever lasted was about three days.

When Hakoda left the room, Sokka handed Katara the stuffed penguin in his arms.

"Sled wants you to hold him," he explained.

Katara took the stuffed penguin, confused. "I thought Sled was a girl?"

"Sled's a man, Katara."

"Sled looks more like a penguin than a man."

"Don't disrespect Sled like that!" Sokka started reaching for the penguin, only for Katara to hold it away from him. "Sled has feelings!"

"Sled is a toy, Boomerang Brain!"

"Sled is a loving penguin with a big heart!" Sokka glared at Katara, accusingly stating, "Unlike _some_ people!"

"Alright, fine!" Katara huffed, huddling the stuffed penguin close to her. "I'll hold him. Happy?"

"Very." Sokka stopped reaching, turning his attention back to the computer. "Want to watch with me?"

Katara leaned over, looking at the computer screen. It was a penguin documentary. She shrugged and nodded, subconsciously stroking the top of the stuffed penguin's head. 

"How're your legs?" Sokka asked. "Do they hurt?"

Katara turned to her brother, wondering how he knew. "They'll be fine."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "They don't hurt a lot. I think they'll be fine in a bit."

"Cool."

A few moments later, Hakoda came back into Katara's room, holding two bowls in his hand. He set them down in front of the children, telling them to eat before dinner. Katara and Sokka dug into their bowl of blueberries and apple slices, watching as their father exited their room once again. They turned their attention back to the documentary, occasionally commenting here and there.

The two were halfway through their documentary when Katara turned to her brother, feeling the need to ask him something.

She nudged at his rib cage to get his attention. "Sokka?"

"Ow," Sokka groaned, rubbing the spot where he was jabbed. "What?"

"Do you think I should celebrate my birthday?"

"Why? Do you want to?"

"Just answer the question."

"Do whatever you want," Sokka shrugged, looking at his sister. "It's your birthday. Celebrate if you want to."

Katara nodded, turning her attention back to the documentary. Sokka followed suit, nearly forgetting the conversation.

A few seconds later, she turned and nudged at her brother's rib cage again. "Sokka?"

The boy yelped. "Ow! What now?!"

"I want to have a birthday party."

Sokka looked at his sister; an unrecognizable look was placed on his face. Katara was just about to take back her words, regretting ever saying anything (perhaps it was a bad idea). It wasn't until Sokka shrugged and nodded, turning away from Katara as though it was a normal conversation, that the worry bubbling in the girl's chest simmered down.

Perhaps it _wasn't_ a bad idea after all.

Katara kept glancing at her brother, quietly asking, "Should we tell dad?"

"We should tell him tomorrow." Sokka didn't bother to look at her, but there was a tiny smile hidden on his face. "What do you want for your birthday present?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to have a birthday party, right?" the boy reasoned. "So that means you're going to get presents. Tell me what you want."

If Katara was mildly surprised, she didn't show it. "I don't know. Surprise me."

"I shall gift you a single rock."

"If you gift me a rock, I will throw it at your head."

It was all in good nature, and the smiles on the siblings' faces accounted for that. They turned their attention back to the documentary, offering comments here and there. Not long after, they heard their names being called, and they paused the two-hour-long video before going downstairs. With Sokka helping Katara (her legs still felt a bit stiff), the two made it downstairs for dinner.

The family ate in peace, and the kids invited their father to the pillow fort. The family watched the rest of the documentary together; even Hakoda couldn't help squeezing himself into the comfortable tent his children put up. When the kids fell asleep, the man helped them rest and turned on Katara's nightlight. He glanced back one last time before heading out of the room.

It was a surprisingly good ending to their eventful day.

*********

Azula and Iroh made it back home, and Azula found enough energy in herself to walk to Zuko's room on her own--leaning her weight against the hallway walls as she pushed herself further into the house. She spotted her brother sitting on his bed, fidgeting with a Rubik's cube in concentration. Willing her legs to move, she shakily made it to the bed, plopping down with a sigh. It broke Zuko's trace just enough for him to acknowledge her presence; he was confused as to why she was back.

When she explained that their uncle had went to fetch her home, it only doubled her brother's confusion. When had their uncle left to go get her? Had the boy really not noticed that he was alone at home?

Then again, Zuko wasn't really that big a fan of having deep conversations with his uncle. The boy barely managed to speak in full sentences, even though he was opening up more and more with every passing day.

They stayed on the bed in silence--with Azula watching her brother fuss over his Rubik's cube. The girl observed her brother for a few minutes before lightly tugging on the back of his shirt, getting his attention.

"Do you remember what a pillow fort is?" she asked him.

Zuko put the cube down beside him, nodding at the question. "Mama used to make them."

"Katara and Sokka made one for me, but I had to come home," Azula explained. "I kinda wish I stayed. I didn't get to see it."

Zuko nodded wordlessly. He waited for his sister to continue. 

"Zuzu?" Azula thought for a while about what to say before she admitted, "I had a panic attack today."

It seemed to shock the boy. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Just tired."

"You should take a shower." As Zuko spoke, his voice was quiet, as though he was confessing something that should've been kept a secret. "It helps sometimes. If you feel achy, then a shower will help."

Azula didn't even realize she felt achy. "How did you know I was achy?"

Zuko smiled at her--a sad smile. It clicked in the girl's head, and suddenly all the nights filled with screams made sense. Without another word, Azula got up and headed out of the room. Her legs suddenly felt all too sore, but it wasn't from the day's events. It was from the sudden realization of what a panic attack was, and how often they had been happening. Azula felt sick, and she didn't even know why.

Maybe a shower _would_ help.

*********

Iroh had gone around the house, checking every window and door. He spent his time closing and locking every one of them--even going so far as to putting barriers by each. He put a glass by the windows, so if they were to open, the glass would fall and alert the house. He put a chair under each doorknob, keeping the door from opening as a safety precaution. Iroh even checked the backyard for anything suspicious; he barricaded that door especially. 

His niece saw something--no, _someone._ He wasn't going to take the chance of it being nothing. He trusted the girl, and after one time of not listening to her with the issue of Jet, there was no way he was going to doubt her word. If his niece saw something, then it must be true.

But what? What did she see? What was gone? Was it a person?

Nope. No chances. He was going to be extra careful this time.

Iroh went to go check up on the front door one last time, pacing towards it. The chair he put under the doorknob was holding up, as well as the glass he put on top of the door frame--attached via string to the doorknob. If someone wrestled their way through the door--somehow knocking over the chair--then the glass would shatter under their feet. Not only would the sound of shattered glass ring throughout the house, but so would the person's screaming. 

_A foolproof plan._

Iroh nodded to himself, feeling a bit satisfied with his planning. He cautiously walked away from the door, starting to turn off all the lights. As he was finishing up, heading into the hallway, he saw his nephew's bedroom door open.

Out stepped Zuko with a worried look on his face.

"Nephew?" Iroh came closer to the boy. "Is there something wrong?"

The twelve-year-old cleared his throat, hesitating a bit. When he looked up at his uncle, Iroh gave him a small smile.

_Encouragement to continue._

"A-Azula..." His voice was barely audible. "...I-In the shower."

Iroh nodded, crouching down at eye level to his nephew. He waited for the latter to keep talking.

"Sh-She said..." Zuko started wringing his hands. Nervous. "...Pillow fort?"

"Ah, I believe Azula's friend made a pillow fort for her sleepover," Iroh gently explained. "But your sister had to come home."

"P-Panic attack...?"

Iroh nodded solemnly.

"C-Can...?" Zuko cleared his throat again, scratching at the back of his hand. "B-Build one? F-For Azula?"

"Would you like to build a pillow fort for your sister?" Iroh clarified.

Zuko nodded. "S-So she'll... maybe f-feel better..."

Oh.

_Oh._

That was adorable...

"Would you like some help?" the man offered. "How about we set the fort in your room, nephew?"

He saw the boy smile--almost ghostly but still visible in the darkness--and nod eagerly. Iroh smiled at his nephew and got up, saying that he would go fetch pillows and blankets. He watched as the twelve-year-old ran back to his room, smiling wider than before. As his nephew disappeared out of sight, Iroh turned and headed to his room. He had extra pillows in there, and a few blankets as well.

As he walked down the hallway, he put his hand in his pocket, feeling a texture of paper that he kept. It was the note he saw in the morning, placed underneath the Rubik's cube. If he thought too much about it, Iroh knew he would start crying right then and there.

It was a big improvement though, wasn't it?

His nephew used to be so quiet. Now, he was slowly opening up more.

 _Thank you,_ said the note. Out of all the words, those two pierced his heart deeper.

He would do anything for his children.

*********

Azula stepped out of the bathroom, hurrying to her room with her towel wrapped around her. Her teeth clattered as she ran, regretting her subconscious choice of forgetting to bring a change of clothes. She sprinted to her closet, slipping into the first pair of night clothes she grabbed.

The water was a bit cold after a while of being in the shower, but she figured the bathroom was previously occupied. Zuko was already in his night clothes by the time she got to his room, so she reasoned that her brother had taken a shower not too long before she got home. 

Not that she minded the cold water. She could still shower.

It just didn't help with the achiness. If anything, it tensed her up even more.

At least her legs felt less shaky. Still achy, but way less shaky--which was a surprise, seeing as how she was shaking from the cold water.

Azula dressed, instantly feeling warmer. She started heading for the door before she noticed a glass near her window. It stopped her, and in her confusion, she went over to it. It looked to be one of her uncle's more favored glass cups--the fragile ones. If she opened the window without moving the glass, it would have shattered under her feet. She wondered what it was doing sitting by her window sill.

Come to think of it, she barely aired out her room. Having spent so much time in her brother's room, she rarely came into her own.

Azula removed the glass, holding it as she looked out of the window. The nine-year-old noticed the lock on the window, and with hesitant hands, she unlocked it and opened the window fully. A gust of cold air entered through the opened window, and in hindsight, it seemed like the perfect way to air out her room. She looked outside, sticking her head just a bit out--feeling the breeze hit her. It was refreshing.

She closed her eyes, listening to the wind. Its gentle gush surrounded her, and for a split second, she forgot about the panic attack she had earlier. She nearly forgot the ache in her muscles.

That was, until she heard a snapping of a twig. Or was it a crunch of a leaf?

She opened her eyes, looking ahead. Her bedroom window had a good view of the neighbor's wooden fence. There was a small light coming from somewhere, outlining all the shadows surrounding the house.

Azula watched the shadows closely. They seemed normal, even if she couldn't make them out. Some moved along the gust of the wind--slowly and methodically.

But there was one. One shadow. One that stood so still. One that caught Azula's eye at a fullstop. 

That one shadow was perfectly still.

And then it moved all too suddenly.

Azula muffled a scream as she pulled her head back into her room, reaching for the window. She slammed it shut, reaching up to lock it. Her hands pried at the window, testing to see if she successfully locked it before placing the fragile glass by the window sill. As she looked out of the window again, the shadow was gone. 

...Did she panic for no reason?

Maybe it was a figment of her imagination.

Maybe it was just another tree. Did the neighbors have trees? She was pretty sure she saw a cherry tree somewhere.

Azula crept back, keeping her eyes on the window. The glass she put back seemed to watch her. She walked backwards, out of the room, and turned off the lights. As soon as she was out, she closed her bedroom door and ran to her brother's room. The light from within that room called out to her, but she found herself freezing just outside the doorway.

Should she tell her uncle? Perhaps it was another shadow.

Would he even believe her? He didn't believe her last time...

No, she should tell him. Maybe it was important.

Right, she should tell him.

Azula took a deep breath in and composed herself. Feeling determined, she walked into her brother's room, ready to tell both Zuko and Iroh what she saw.

But she froze.

_What was that?_

Azula looked at the mess of pillows and blankets on the bed, built into a tent-like form. Inside were Zuko and Iroh, waving her over.

"Come, my niece!" Iroh laughed merrily. "Zuko and I made a pillow fort!"

_A pillow fort..._

"T-To feel better," Zuko explained--his voice a bit quieter than his uncle's. "F-For you."

Azula closed the door behind her, awed at the sight. The fort looked comfortable, and if she looked a bit closer, she saw a computer.

"We can watch a movie if you'd like," Iroh suggested, pulling out his computer from under the heap of blankets. "Nephew mentioned that you like Disney?"

Azula nodded. She had no words.

"Come!" Her uncle patted a spot in between him and her brother. "Sit! Let's watch a movie of your choice together!"

The girl slowly made her way towards the bed. She got into the tent-like fort that was built, sitting beside the two already inside--leaned against a heap of pillows behind them. She put her head close to her brother's shoulder, relaxing near him. A part of her wanted to tell the two what she saw.

But she didn't. The words she planned were lost in her mind.

The trio spent the night watching some movie that Azula randomly chose. She forgot the name, and she barely paid attention to the animation. Halfway through, she heard her brother lightly snore, and it didn't take long for her to realize that he had fallen asleep. The girl figured that now was a good time to tell her uncle, but...

_...But why?_

Why worry him? Zuko and her uncle already seemed so worried about her having a panic attack. They built a fort to make her feel better.

Why worry them both even more than they already were? It was probably just a random shadow, just like the one on the street. Her uncle already said that Jet and Zhao were dead. Why would they still be alive?

Azula fell asleep not too long after, and gentle hands set down into a more comfortable position. Her mind tried to think of who it could be--who would care so much as to make sure she was comfortable even while sleeping. 

Zuko? No, remember? He was asleep, right next to her.

Then who...?

Ah. Right.

It was her Uncle Iroh.

*********

Hakoda laid in his bed, feeling the events of the day slowly soak into him. A lot happened, and he barely had any time to deeply process anything until now. He stared at his ceiling, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness of his room. It was nearly midnight now, and he found himself unable to sleep. Even Katara and Sokka had gone to sleep in their little fort a couple of hours ago. As he laid in his bed, he recounted everything.

Azula came for a sleepover.

He got a call from Bato and headed out for urgent business.

Bato told him that his mother was dying--not necessarily, but close enough.

He came home, planning to tell his children about their grandmother. He still had to, so maybe tomorrow would be a good time. 

He was caught in the middle of two (nearly three, since Sokka looked to be on edge too) panic attacks.

He phoned Iroh about his niece.

_Phoned Iroh..._

Right, he had to repair his phone. That would have to wait until morning though. He just felt tired, and it was just his luck that his phone decided to crack today.

Speaking of which, it didn't _have_ to crack. Maybe he should have been a little more careful when running up the stairs. Stupid phone and its breakable screen; his phone was lucky that he needed it so much, or else he would have ditched that stupid waste of--

Wait, hold on.

The door. He forgot about the door. He found his phone cracked at the bottom of the staircase, and the door had been wide open. He left it open to run up the stairs--

_Security cameras._

Hakoda grabbed his phone, glaring at the crack on his screen. He unlocked it and went to his security-feed app, downloading the day's recording and watching it. Some part of his brain feared the past, and he knew the past often repeated itself. The man just wanted to take the extra precaution; it helped ease his mind. His new home would be protected, and his family would find some safety.

As he played the day's recording, he skipped to the time when he pulled into his driveway. The time read 6:27 p.m. on the playback, and he watched it with cautious eyes. All he saw was himself--going into the house, leaving the door wide open, and forgetting the keys in the lock. So far it was normal, right? He kept watching, only to see himself again--taking the keys out of the lock and closing the door. The playback ended at 6:49 p.m.

Nothing happened.

Everything was fine.

An uncanny feeling settled into the pit of his stomach as he shut off his phone and placed it back on his nightstand. It was probably just nerves. He settled back into his bed, pulling his covers up and closing his eyes. He should probably get some sleep now.

It was nothing.

Nothing was wrong.

He had to reason to worry.

_Watch the playback again._

His gut was twisting within itself.

_Watch it again._

There was nothing to worry about. Nothing unusual happened.

_Watch it. Watch it. Watch it._

He didn't have to watch it again.

_Watch it now!_

Hakoda shot up from his bed, grabbing his phone and shakily unlocking it. He told himself that it was just nerves--making his sweat and shake as he opened up the security-feed app on his phone. He clicked on the playback again, watching it carefully and pausing every few minutes.

It was just nerves; he was sure. Why was he worried? Why was he so fearful?

6:27:13 p.m. -- A clear drive-way.

6:27:37 p.m. -- His car pulls up in the driveway.

6:28:01 p.m. -- He stops in front of the front door, putting his key into the front lock.

6:28:24 p.m. -- He runs into his house, leaving the door open and the keys in the front lock.

6:28:59 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:01 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

Hakoda's heart dropped. He looked around his room before looking back at the recording. It wasn't just a trick played on his eyes. He kept watching in dread, only to skip forward about ten minutes into the recording. It was just the same footage--the same timestamp.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:29:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:40:01 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:41:18 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:41:57 p.m. -- A slight shadow... No, it was probably nothing.

6:42:00 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:42:50 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:43:01 p.m. -- Another slight shadow. There was no way this was nothing.

6:43:41 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:44:03 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:44:37 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:45:00 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:45:49 p.m. -- Another slight shadow. It looked like a person.

6:46:33 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:46:58 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:47:15 p.m. -- Another slight shadow. Who was it?

6:47:38 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:47:56 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:48:21 p.m. -- He comes to the door and looks outside.

6:48:49 p.m. -- He takes the key out of the front lock.

6:48:54 p.m. -- He closes the door.

6:49:00 p.m. -- Another slight shadow. This time, it looked like the silhouette of a man. Or maybe a woman with short hair. No, it was definitely a man.

6:49:37 p.m. -- Nothing.

6:49:49 p.m. -- The recording stops.

*********

Iroh awoke in a startle. Something didn't feel right. He looked at his wrist watch, grateful that he didn't take it off for the day. The time read 12:37 a.m. 

Why did he wake up just past midnight? 

He carefully looked beside him, seeing the two children huddled next to each other. The man smiled to himself, feeling a bit of serenity pass through his mind. It seemed like a blessing seeing the two kids at peace. Perhaps the pillow fort was a great idea for the two siblings.

Iroh was startled again by a low buzz. He looked around the room, trying to locate it, until he felt it in his clothing. He dug through his pockets, feeling the note in one and his personal phone in the other. The phone buzzed.

Someone was calling.

Iroh pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. Hakoda Aput. Was there a matter so urgent that he didn't use his landline?

He crept out of the tent, being careful not to disturb the sleeping children, as he pressed the call button. He kept quiet until he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and bringing the device to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, being careful not to be too loud.

No answer. At least, not entirely. All Iroh could hear was audible breathing.

He tried again. "Hakoda?"

 _"Someone--"_ The line went static for a second. _"--There's someone..."_

"Hakoda, who--"

 _"I thought we were safe."_ There was panic in the other man's voice. _"Oh La, I though we were safe."_

"You are safe," Iroh reassured, trying to make sense of Hakoda's panic. "What's the problem? Can you tell me?"

 _"The cameras--"_ The line went static again. _"--There's someone in the cameras. They stopped, Iroh. The cameras stopped and there's someone--"_

"Where are you now?" 

_"In Katara's room."_ Hakoda's voice was low. Iroh guessed that he didn't wake his kids up. _"They're still asleep. I don't have to heart to worry them. I don't want to wake them up. Not after what happened earlier. They need a rest."_

"Where is the person?" Iroh needed answers. "Who is this someone?"

_"I don't know."_

"Stay with your kids." It was probably safer this way. "Just for the night. Then come over and we can talk."

The line went static for a while again. When the connection picked up, all Iroh could hear was mumbling.

"What?" he asked.

 _"Did they follow you?"_ Hakoda repeated.

"Did who follow me?" Iroh thought back to Azula--how she kept looking behind him. She whispered that whatever was behind him was ' _gone_ ', but Iroh wasn't quite sure at the moment. "I don't know."

Hakoda hummed. _"Let me know if--"_

The line went dead. 

Iroh brought his phone away from his ear, looking at the 'Call Has Ended' message. His battery was still nearly full. Did the line cut from his end, or did it cut from Hakoda's end? It set a sense of panic into his own mind, and he listened closely to the silence of the house.

Iroh knew he put glasses near every window he saw. He even put a glass on top of the front door's frame. There was no way an intruder would come into his house without anyone knowing. He was sure of it; there was a barricade in the living room, the dining room, near the backyard, in Iroh's room, in Zuko's room, in Azula's room, in all the bathrooms and near all the stray hallway windows--

That was, until he realized he forgot one window--in the room he rarely let himself into.

_How could he forget?_

Iroh dashed down the hall, quickly entering Lu Ten's room. He looked around the room; his wide eyes scanned everything in a panic. Everything seemed in its usual place. Everything seemed normal.

Iroh breathed out in relief. He walked to the window, preparing to make sure it was closed. With his hand on the lock, he secured the window and smiled to himself.

All was safe. He could call Hakoda back now.

As Iroh turned to leave the room, he froze. Something didn't feel right. 

He walked forward, towards Lu Ten's bed. He wouldn't have noticed anything out of place in the darkness of the room if he didn't look close enough, but he saw it--a note. Iroh reached the bed and grabbed the note. A part of him hoped for it to be similar to the note he found in the morning--the note Zuko wrote him. He hoped this was another one of his nephew's notes.

But it wasn't. It was on a piece of paper (not a small Post-It note), and the handwriting looked familiar in such a bad way. The seven words written out in black ink sent a shiver down his spine.

_Next time, lock all of your windows._

Iroh wasted no time in walking out of the room and dialing Hakoda's number on his personal phone. He needed to get to the children. He needed to tell Hakoda who it was. Somehow, he felt as though he knew who the note was from.

He rushed to Zuko's room, shutting the door as lightly as he could and locking it. He stood over the children, looking around the room as he called the other man. The line rang, only to be cut abruptly. Iroh tried calling again, and again, and again. 

No answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if this End Note doesn't make much sense. I was a bit emotional hehehe.
> 
> Hello!! For starters, I wish to thank you all for the last update (Writer's Note). There was so much overwhelming support that I honestly ended up breaking down (in a happy way, not completely sad). I'm so grateful for you all, and thank you for reading!! This has been a pseudo therapy for me.
> 
> On that note, I do have some (maybe) unfortunate news. To those that asked if I was in a safer place now: yes, I am!! But things that happened in my past started slowly resurfacing (I'm still safe, don't worry). For that, I needed to go back to my home country to resolve those things. I need to keep my younger siblings safe, so I need to go. I requested an academic break from college, and after such a long time, I was finally granted it!! And it seems like the perfect opportunity to go as well; I really hope things go as planned!! And please don't worry about me traveling; I am currently complying to guidelines and the fourteen-day self-quarantine before contacting any of my loved ones.
> 
> If you read "Our First Words," you already know that I mentioned that I will be on a break! That is also true for this story. I promise: I will be back!! There will be one more update before I go for this story, and I hope to get it out in about two weeks or so!! I expect to be back perhaps around March 2021! Hopefully, everything that I am leaving for will be resolved by then!! If not, I'll update you all as soon as I can, but my academic break has been extended until early June, so if I cannot be back by March, then I will surely be back by June!!
> 
> Now, for the reason I'm taking a break: it's not because I won't have wifi lol! To be truthful, I started both "Even Fire Can Be Extinguished" and the "Letters From Me To You" Series because I was struggling a lot with mental health. This story ties a lot into personal trauma. I really felt that I needed to take a break from this story, since I'm going back to my home country to resolve the trauma at its root (hopefully?). "Our First Words" is a very lighthearted story, but I was dealing with a lot and decided to write a bit of fluff to get my mind off of life around me. It doesn't really make sense to take a break from that story, but I really feel the need to resolve all tension that tied into the reason why I started writing in the first place. I really hope you all can understand, and I'm really sorry for putting this all out on you.
> 
> That being said, I will indeed feel really stressed out. That is no surprise. Writing has been my escape, so I might start a new fanfic? I'm still stuck of whether or not I will have the strength to write after all the things I'll be dealing with in my home country, but if I do, it will mostly be another prompt or such. I may need some fluff in my life, or to vent out angst, but either way, I still am not sure about this option. Perhaps if I do, it can show you that I am okay and safe? I'm not sure; might think more on this. 
> 
> In the meantime, I do have good news to share!! From all the feedback and support I received, I'm actually thinking about telling someone close to me about what happened in my past. I'm really nervous of how they will react: if they will be heartbroken or disgusted or another emotion. This will be the first person I tell, and I seriously hope I don't lose contact with them afterwards.
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for the support. This End Note may be all over the place (I know I say this a lot for many of my writings and updates, but I cannot help but feel a little self-conscious and a bit emotional), so I will try to edit it as clearly as I can. I seriously appreciate you all for being there. I love you all so much!! <3


	16. Writer's Note 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: vague mention of abuse (really sorry)

Hello!! So, I know that I mentioned that there would be another update before I go on my break, but unfortunately, I'd have to go on break right now. I figured I would have a little bit of time after self-quarantining to get an update out. However, the moment I got home, things were already so bad that I need to put everything aside and focus on what's happening. Really sorry for the lack of update that was promised, but hopefully I'm able to get everything done and get that update out by March!

I'm not really sure who else to tell, but I just need to vent for a second. If you prefer not to read, or are wary of the warning placed in the Beginning Note, please skip to the last paragraph!!

Things back at home are much worse than I thought they would be. From phone calls that I made, I thought that things would be manageable. But the moment I greeted my siblings at the door, I knew I was wrong. I honestly feel so guilty for leaving them, but I couldn't take them with me when I left.

Thankfully, one of my siblings is old enough to go to college in a few months, so I'm making sure that they are safe and able to go for the months that I'm there. My other sibling is still in a grey area--where they're too young to move out but not too old to leave home with family. I can't bring them with me, since I'm still classified as an international student and will probably return home anyway after I complete my degree. I don't know how much burden it will be for my youngest sibling to move in with the sibling going to college, since I want to make sure that getting a good education is the first thing on their mind. Moving in with relatives only complicates everything, since I know they're judgmental and will most likely place blame in anyone other than the abusers. 

I thought I had so much time--even a couple of days--to figure out what to do. I didn't expect everything to just start moving the minute I stepped foot into my childhood home. Legal stuff is already happening and I'm trying to get caught up and trying to help, but my mind is a mess from trying to understand what's happening in the first place. It's only harder to do now because one of the people has so many "supporters" (people from our hometown that keep saying they are a "good person that can do no wrong") and there are so many people trying to gaslight and say that we are over-exaggerating. 

On another basis, I mentioned that I was going to tell someone about what happened. I ended up telling my sibling--the one that is going to college. It kind of came out while we were both talking to each other late at night, and it was just so heartbreaking. I mentioned that I did and endured everything because I wanted to protect my younger siblings, but I feel like I failed as the eldest when my sibling told me that it happened to them too when I left. I thought I was keeping everyone safe by just enduring everything myself, but I never knew that I wasn't the only one who was told to "do something to protect the others." Both of us don't know if it happened to our youngest sibling, but a part of me doesn't want to know because I'll just want to scream. 

Honestly, I feel so much hatred right now. And disgust. And also plain fear. 

Hopefully, everything is resolved by the time I'm done with this shit. I just want to go back to school--as boring as it sounds--because I don't want to deal with whatever horrible things are happening here. I feel like screaming, but I know that if I scream, no sound is going to come out. I just want to keep my siblings safe, but in doing so, I'm losing my mind trying to fight anyone that comes too close to us. 

I'm really sorry for this rant. Just so many things in my mind that I feel like I'm slowly going crazy.

On a good note, I hope everyone has a happy year ahead of them!! And happy holidays (late, but evident) for everyone!! Please take care and stay safe!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not much of an update, but I really apologize for promising one and not giving it. I'm also really sorry for the rant; I just don't know what to do at this point. If any of you have any advice to offer, please do so! Anything will help at this point; I'm so desperate to remain calm but everything is in a disarray.

**Author's Note:**

> As much as the angst hurt, I hope you are all doing well!! <3


End file.
